Down Under
by Eve Woods
Summary: Highschool AU: Oliver Queen transfers to Smallville High, and he and Clark get off to a rocky start. Slowly, Clark begins to realize there is more to the blond than meets the eye. ClarkxOliver and other pairings
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, so I haven't actually seen a lot of Smallville. The first few seasons, but not much after that. I still really like this pairing, and decided to try writing it to take my mind off of all the crappy honors classes I was stupid enough to sign up for. So this came along. In it, Oliver is actually the same age as Clark, 17, not older. Just so no one gets confused.**

**Hope you like it! Don't forget to review :)**

** xxx, Eve**

**Note: **_dslfkj_= thoughts. alsdkjf= speech. **lsdkfj**=emphasis

Down Under

Chapter One: No Reason In Particular

_It's true,_ Oliver mused, glaring out the mirror-like window, his fingers trapping the leather curve of his seat in the palm of his hand. _Misery loves company._

For in the drivers seat was a government worker, giving him a ride to school. Why a government lackey, Ollie would never know, but apparently there were enough on standby to drive an orphan to school on their first day. In fact, the blond had woken up to a loud knocking (slamming) on the door to his apartment at four in the morning, so they had to have time on their hands.

Ironically, the worker had stormed inside with a coffee and a newspaper and sat around for three hours while Oliver tried and gave up on getting back to sleep, took a shower, and pulled himself into the semi-nice attire smallville teens had taken to. At seven forty-five, the worker had grabbed Ollie by the wrist, then promptly dragged him to the black Subaru the teen so kindly got from the community (because they took "pity" on orphaned kids who lived alone and somehow stayed away from breaking the law).

Not that Oliver hadn't broken the law before.

Actually...he'd broken the law on countless occasions. Dyeing the neighbor's shaved cat purple, spray painting the bridge where all the gangs went.

Dressing up at night and...

Anyway. The worker had rudely shoved him into the car. They'd managed to be around each other for over three hours, not including the utterly silent forty minute drive to school in the car ride they were currently surviving, and not speak a word. Ollie had randomly fist-bumped the worker's face just so that it would be an equally awkward experience for both of them.

"We're here." Ollie stated blandly, stepping out of the car once it had come to a stop in the drop-off zone. "Don't bother visiting again. I've got a ride." He didn't have a ride.

The worker nodded gruffly and pulled away, the car doing a mini power slide as he avoided hitting a few teenagers. The blonde sighed, wondering what he'd done to deserve this life, before smirking. Radiating confidence, he moved through the swarm of first day picture girls and made his way over to the attendance office.

Walking inside, it smelled like christmas-or at least, what Oliver would expect Christmas to smell like. Pine trees and candy canes, slightly stuffy, and overwhelmingly warm. There were even stray lights hung about the room. There was only one desk in the office, and a plump aged woman sat at it, gingerly poking at the keyboard of her computer. It looked like an ancient microsoft monster, ready to tear away at her hesitant fingers.

He cleared his throat and the woman's gaze flew over to him, eyes wide. "I'm sorry," She said, smiling kindly. "I'm not quite used to this yet. I'm Nancy Frost, you can call me Nancy or Nanna. You'll have to forgive me, I counsel students, I'm just here to fill in for today."

"Nice to meet you." Oliver said, shaking her hand gently. He tried to shake away the awe of meeting such a...kind looking woman. All of them that he'd met were either hookers or broke, the criminal kind. They were nice, but in a tough-love sort of way. So he smirked, and if anything, all he felt was his ego inflate slightly. "I'm Oliver Queen. This is my first year at your school."

"How nice," Nancy smiled. Her eyes seemed to twinkle. "Well, since you're new there will be a guide for your first semester here. Classes change often, and with the multiple floors, students can get lost. They should be waiting for you near the library by the time first period begins."

"Thanks," Oliver grinned charmingly, walking out of the office to look around the rest of the school. He hadn't been paying attention to it, focused more on the people than the actual building, and he had to wonder how much control the Luthor's got for donating so much money. The floors were white marble, and the walls were also white, spotless, with massive spotless windows taking up both sides of the hall. Through one side, you could see a giant courtyard-though you couldn't see through the trees and fountains to the other side.

His bully-detector did a dance inside his chest and he turned. Over in the corner, three jocks had surrounded what appeared to be a small, scrawny rat of a kid. The boy had a shock of red hair, and dark brown eyes. Oliver stepped forward to greet the quartet.

"What are you," He laughed viciously at the kid. "A third grader? Seriously. Go back to the Chocolate Factory before someone steps on you." Tears filled the boy's eyes.

He was not feeling guilty. Oliver Queen didn't feel guilty.

The trio regarded him with interested faces.

"Yeah." One of them grunted. "Get lost, pipsqueak, before we beat your face in." They closed around the boy, who was now pressed firmly to the wall.

"Why wait?" Oliver smirked. "When we can just take him out back and beat him there?"

The jocks looked dumbfounded that he'd not only joined in, but urged them on, before acceptance filled them and they turned to him. "You're not going to turn us in?"

Turn us in? Seriously, what were they, five? This wasn't jail. "Not as long as I get to do it."

He waited. This was the moment, that one where you either lose completely or come out with an even better reputation.

"Sure." The brunette jock offered, and the other two just watched on, not doing a thing. Dumb asses. Oliver nodded with a growing ego as he grabbed the kid by his backpack strap and forcefully pulled him through a glass door and into the courtyard. He kept pulling until he couldn't see walls in either direction, before crouching so he was on the same level as the kid.

"What's your name?" He growled, and the redhead flinched.

"R-roy."

"How old are you?"

"S-seven." Roy looked ready to cry. Ollie sighed and shook his head bitterly. They were going to beat up a second or third grader. What the hell was up with that?

"And why, pray tell, are you _here_?"

"My m-moms a teacher." Roy sniffed, rubbing his eyes, and Ollie wondered how on earth they could ever think about hurting such a soft-hearted kid.

So he did the only thing he could think of doing. "Okay, look kid, you're going to run around in the dirt a little, and when you come out, you're going to hold your stomach and cry like your freaking life is coming to an end."

Roy stared at him blankly.

"And you better act like you're god damned terrified of me or else, got it?" He growled. Roy nodded, eyes wide and still a little red.

"You aren't going to beat me up?" Well, wasn't that a personality change.

"Nope." A pause. "Not if you don't tell anyone about this."

"O-oh." A pause. Roy grinned shyly. "You're nice."

"It's my magnetic personality." Oliver replied dully, ignoring Roy's confused gaze and retracing his steps back to the door with a sigh.

* * *

"I'm Clark, I'm going to be your student guide." Clark greeted as the new student popped up. From what he could tell, the blonde was just a few inches shorter than him, and moved with a surprising grace. "Is this your first year in Smallville?"

"I'm Oliver. My parents and I lived here a couple years back." He answered, smirking for no apparent reason. Clark couldn't help but wonder why the look Oliver was giving him sent such an odd feeling through his system. Something was...off. Whether in a good or bad way, he didn't know.

"That's cool." The brunette mumbled, before pulling a neon flyer out of his pocket and unfolding it. He handed it to Oliver, who studied it uninterestedly. "Since I'm supposed to be your guide, you share your classes with me." So it'll be easier if you're a good person. A lot easier.

"Mm." Oliver grunted non-commitally, and Clark observed the person in front of him more closely.

Blonde hair and deep hazel eyes verging on light brown, he had beige skin that was nearly flawless, save for a strange looking scar mostly covered by his shirt. In fact, Clark discovered with a frown, upon a closer look there were small, almost-healed scars everywhere from his arms to his feet, and there was a hint of purple rings under his eyes.

"Where'd you get those scars?" He asked carefully, slightly hesitant just in case he scared the blonde off. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions, he was prone to do that, but parental abuse-

"What scars?" Oliver asked, and-was that fear in his voice? Vulnerability? No, he still held the smirk, Clark had to've been imagining it. He stopped his train of thought to consider the question, and, well, crap. So, he had x-ray vision now, too? What was next, would he grow wings and a tail?

"Oh, uh, no-"

"New Kid!" One of the football players, Whitney Fordman, was sauntering over. He had a blank look on his face, and Clark inwardly groaned. He didn't need this right now. Especially not in front of Oliver, who shouldn't have to deal with idiots on his first day. "Hey, New Kid!"

"Stranger." Oliver replied smoothly, and while his expression was what Whitney would see as friendly and confident, Clark could tell was amused and mocking.

"Did you beat him up yet?" Whitney asked, and Clark frowned deeply. Oliver...didn't give off the same air as a bully would. On the contrary, even the way he moved contradicted the assumption. "Where is he?"

"Please." Oliver snorted, smiling cruelly. "He couldn't even stand after a minute or two. Fucking wimp." Whitney grinned and nodded, ignoring Clark completely (not that Clark blamed him. They just didn't associate. It was better that way).

"Nice." Whitney grinned, making an expression that honest-to-god reminded Clark of an ape.

Clark was horrified. They must be talking about Roy, Whitney's usual victim. Why the hell would Oliver beat up the ginger, who was no more than half his size? His attitude darkened considerably, and he felt an aggressiveness take hold as he gripped Oliver's wrist painfully. "What the hell is your problem?! Roy's in third grade! You can't beat him up!"

"That's funny," Oliver replied smugly, the vicious smirk still etched over his unruffled features as his arm remained in Clark's tightening grip. "It seemed to work when I did."

The scars, Clark though. They're probably from people fighting him in self defense. The manipulative bastard, coming off like a decent person, being nice to Clark.

"What the fuck?" Whitney said, watching them stare each other down. "Are arms supposed to turn that color?"

Clark looked down in horror. The skin of Oliver's arm closest to his hand was white, while the rest of it was quickly shading from purple to blue. He glanced up, forcing his fingers to uncurl, just in time to see a flash of bare pain in Oliver's eyes. Quickly, though, the look faded, replaced with the same smug outlook.

"See you round, boy scout." Oliver grinned maliciously, sliding the schedule into his pocket and weaving into the crowd. Just as Clark was about to go after him the bell rang, and students swarmed past him. No matter where he looked now, he had to accept it. Oliver was gone.

* * *

Clark spent the rest of the day with Oliver out of his sights. Even with his (newly accumulated) x-ray vision, the brunette could not locate the new student.

Not that he cared. The blonde was obviously a bad person and influence on society; getting into fights and ditching his first day at a new school. Yeah, Oliver was definitely bad news. Clark sighed, and shifted his gaze over to Luthor, who was sitting across from him at the cluster of desks. Mr. Jenners had given the class a test, and everyone who finished it early was free to roam the school. Lex wanted to take them both to the library, since it was quiet and they could both study, so there they were.

The only problem was that Clark couldn't concentrate. For some more-than-mildly irritating reason, Oliver kept popping back up into his mind. _Probably because I don't understand him_ Clark mused, because honestly, who could figure out why someone would screw up their life like that. Bullying was, as ironic as it seemed, not tolerated at Smallville High, and everyone who was caught even harassing another student was either suspended for a semester or, in more serious cases, kicked out.

So he was stuck fiddling with his pencil as Lex scanned his math workbook.

He could not get any more bored.

"Hey, I'm going to go grab a history textbook. Wait here for me." Lex said, pushing out of his seat and leaving Clark at the table. Alone.

He stands corrected. _Now_ he couldn't get any more bored.

It took five minutes to wear Clark down. Two more after found him scrawling a quick, _Grabbing a book, be back later_ on Lex's notebook and retreating to the second floor, which was slightly chattier and commanded by the smiling school counselor, Nanna. She was like the students' mother, or grandmother, always looking after and doting on them. It was sweet, and kinder than words could state.

He heard the soft thump of a heartbeat, sounding as though someone were only standing centimeters away. Frowning, he looked around. He was now embedded between two of the ceiling-high book shelves, which were painted a shimmering gold to match the ivory walls and chestnut furniture. The shelves were actually five feet from hitting the ceiling, which was thirty-five feet high (five feet above the standard legal rules, but hey, it was Smallville, they've dealt with worse problems), so it was possible someone was on the rolling ladder-like construction, but looking up, no one was there. The closest person he could see was a girl listening to her iPod and whistling the tune quietly over a hundred feet away.

He tried to focus in on where it was coming from. Soon, the heart beat was accompanied by the soft breathing that you might hear from a person slumbering peacefully. Almost the two patterned tempos alone made him lull into a comfortable day-dream of nothingness.

Curiosity got the better of him as he zeroed in on the location of the stranger, who was even deeper woven into the depths of the library than he was. Stepping quietly around the stacks and carefully-piled books already abandoned by their shelves, he followed the noise deeper into the facility.

He turned the corner of the bookshelf which, in turn, lead to four different book-shelf-formed paths to take. He listened as the peaceful sounds echoed through his head before taking the leftmost one. The sound of a page being turned almost quickened his step. He felt drawn to whoever these noises were coming from, wondering how they could be so in-depth and ethereal.

He slowed, making his steps even quieter as to not disturb or startle the individual out of their harmonic state. The right shelf he'd been walking by faded into a giant window, spanning through the entire 6 foot gap where there were no shelves upon shelves upon shelves, and just a startling view of the courtyard, before the packs of books began again on the other side.

A figure was leaning against the glass, the sunlight filtering through the glass onto his skin, making it glowing and illuminated. His now honey golden eyes were gentle and at-ease, unaware of his surroundings and carefully, almost gracefully reading each page as though it contained the secrets of immortality. He was beautiful. Clark felt a hard pounding in his chest, and a lurching feeling like he was falling before a chill went down his spine. It was the same feeling he'd get right before flying, or saving someone on patrol.

Oliver looked up from the book suddenly, startled. "Clark?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, so I'm trying to stay on top of the chapters while not failing my classes. Difficult work. Anyways, so Chloe and Lana and (probably) Louis won't be in this fic until later, and Chloe and Lana will definitely be OOC. I'm trying to work Bart into the story somewhere. I wonder what would happen if I randomly stuck YJ or JLA characters into the plot.**

**...moving on. If anyone was wondering, Roy is Red Arrow. If you don't know who that is, you're crazy. ALSO, I'm not one of those insane people who will only update if people review-because that usually means you like the positive attention more than writing itself, which is lame because writing just for fun is amazingly awesome-but they do make my day :) It doesn't have to be long. Just tell me how you think I could improve my writing. I like feedback, but I like constructive criticism even more (unless I'm getting my definitions wrong and feedback is the same thing, but I think you get it) :) And ideas for upcoming characters that you might want to see, or relationships you support (they can be from Smallville, Justice League, Teen Titans, X-men, Avengers, Young Avengers, and/or Young Justice) I'm usually pretty good about responding to those types of things.**

**Enough rambling. Enjoy the fic! Don't forget to review :)**

** xxx, Eve**

Down Under

Chapter 2: Supported Failure

Oliver stared at Clark, quick to bookmark his page and slide the text out of sight. No one needed to know that he liked reading. "Clark?"

_Well, dumb ass, aren't you good at pretending to be confident. Not._ Clark shifted, his face turning slightly red, and the brunette shivered. Ollie was cold too, now that he realized it: the air conditioning was on high to keep the older books from molding, so it was freezing. He liked it though, since he adapted well to the dramatic temperatures while in costume.

For some reason, he didn't believe Clark shivered because of the cold. And now the blond was being stared at through blue-green eyes, which were serious and untrusting for once. It almost felt like Clark could see right through him, was looking at the space behind him. But that wasn't possible.

Flee. That's what his first thought was. The last time Clark had gotten angry at him-if angry was the right word-he'd gripped his arm hard enough to make it turn purple. There were deep, angry bruises there now that probably wouldn't go away for a week or two.

But what if Clark caught him anyway? They shared all their classes, it's not like he'd be easy to avoid. So...no, he definitely wasn't going to run away. He vaguely realized that Clark was talking to him, and tried to tune in.

"-ot off on the wrong foot." He was saying, watching Oliver like he was a stricken animal. "I'm Clark Kent. What's your name?"

Huh. So the boy scout was polite, sticking his hand out for a shake despite their bad meeting terms. He stuck out his own hand. "Oliver Queen. It's a pleasure."

Clark looked surprised at his words, and Ollie smirked. _See? Not everyone has to be sugarcoated to know how to play nice. _"It is." Clark shot him a smile, which he nervously returned, and it automatically turned into an awkward teenager moment. "Um, what are you reading?"

Ollie tensed ever-so-slightly. When he was younger, his teachers were mean and intolerable, so he'd simply hole himself up in the public library for hours upon hours and teach himself the material. As a result, not only was he over three years ahead, but he also knew French, Spanish, English, and could get by in German and Russian. He'd been reading up on medical textbooks, because he figured he needed to know how to patch himself up.

No normal teenager read medical books in their free time. Clark, while Oliver wanted to trust him (really, he did), would only cause him pain in the end. Because Oliver hated wearing a mask and taking blame for things he didn't do, but hated lying even more. He was a sucky liar. Not that any of the dumb jocks would notice. "I-uh-"

"Medical stuff? That's cool. Do you want to be a doctor or something?" While Ollie was frozen, Clark had reached behind him and pulled out the reading material. He was flipping through it calmly, regarding the blonde with a slight smile.

"Yeah." Oliver said, and Clark's gaze rose from the book for a split second before he closed his eyes, smirked, and said, "You're a terrible liar."

Super. "...yeah." He admitted. "Never was good at that kind of stuff." He admonished himself silently. He wouldn't be able to pull off being friends with Clark. Or anyone. Don't get close, and neither person could ever get hurt. That's just the way it worked. "Well, I'm going to head out." He grabbed his backpack and turned to leave when Clark grabbed his arm. It wasn't hard and painful like before, but gentle and kind. He reigned the blond back in and observed the mark guiltily.

"Sorry." He mumbled, and Oliver tried not to smile and say, 'it's okay', because he should really be leaving now. Clark looked up at him. "You really should go to your classes. The teachers hold more group-discussion periods than lectures. You'd like it if you came."

And, shit, he couldn't lie. "I'll see you in class, then." Clark brightened at his words.

"Yeah," A grin grew over the brunette's face. "Yeah, I will."

* * *

Oliver had shown up for 6th period, Clark happily noted. The school had a lot of attendants from Gotham and Central City, the works, so there were dorms (just as nice as the school was and twice as furnished) linked by a long glass hallway at the end of the science department. As a result, students either lived close to the school or practically in it, leading to the fact that they had nine periods a day, starting at 7 am and working up 'til 8. Lunch and dinner were served on campus, and any student who wanted a dorm had it free, as long as they got a 4.0 GPA. Clark guessed that Oliver didn't have a dorm, otherwise he could have holed up inside of it instead of in the library.

...the library...Clark wanted to know what he'd felt. It was a good feeling, definitely, and he wanted more of it. But he wasn't sure where it came from. Ruling Oliver himself out was easy because Clark was nothing but associates with bullies, but-

But. There was definitely a but about Oliver and being a bully, something off. Bullies didn't take the time to grin and introduce themselves nicely, just to muck it up by revealing themselves later. They didn't tuck themselves away in the library, and they certainly didn't read medical books.

There was definitely something that Oliver Queen was hiding. And the inner reporter-slash-investigator-slash-journalist was just itching to know what. Not only that, but _Clark _wanted to know what, what exactly was hidden behind Oliver's paradox of a personality, wanted to know why it was hidden, and wanted to help.

His thoughts drifted to his nightly activities. Superman helped people, Superman always helped people. But Superman couldn't help Oliver or talk to him, could he? Nope, it would be too risky.

"Clark." Teddy, Clark's lab partner, nudged him softly in the arm.

"Yeah?" Clark asked not-so-quietly, before noticing Ms. Stone's semi-amused glare directed at him. "I-ah-yeah-" He looked down. Teddy was sticking his fingers out under the cover of the desk. "The answer's four."

Ms. Stone stared at him in surprise before sighing and moving on with the lesson. Clark looked over at the blond jock. "Thanks. I thought I was done for."

Teddy was one of the few jocks-well, the only one, actually-who a) wasn't stupid and b) wasn't mean or aggressive (unless it came to his lover). He had blond hair and dark blue eyes, and his muscles were pronounced and well-defined at the same time. He was actually pretty gentle and kind on his part, considering Clark had misjudged and thought he'd be the opposite. _Just another bit of evidence that looks are deceiving._

"Any time." Teddy replied with a smile, turning back to copying the whiteboard.

Clark's gaze slowly lingered around the room. A few people, like Todd and Lance and Kate, he recognized. A few others, Teddy and Oliver included, he knew quite well.

Oliver was sitting on the far left side of the classroom near the windows, gazing outside almost longingly as he tapped his pencil silently against the desk. His slightly-long blonde hair was tousled, and Clark wondered if he'd fallen asleep in the library at all. His head was resting on his arm as his eyes-not quite brown, but somehow golden and reddish-brown at the same time-lingered over the open courtyard. He chewed on his lips absentmindedly, unaware of his classmate's stare.

And then somehow Clark could see-_see-_the welts around his chest. The broken tissue that would fade without a trace, the bruises that swelled up around his ribcage and shoulder, and, worse, the damaged skin that looked like it'd been chemically burned. How was the blond not doubled up in pain?

Tommy, Oliver's partner, elbowed the new kid and pointed three rows ahead to the door, where they shared a grin: some kid darted past the screen from the outside, holding what appeared to be a chemistry set ready to blow, while his teacher ran after him hollering to duck and cover. Oh, Smallville.

However, Clark could see past the now trademark grin to the wince in pain that his Oliver was quick to cover. It worried him that-

Woah.

Woah.

_Slow down._

_His_ Oliver? Where the hell did _that _come from?

_His._

Oliver. His.

The feeling was back. Clark struggled with the giddy feeling and peeled his eyes off of his classmate and to the board. Why was Oliver so...different?

It was going to be a long hour.

* * *

Oliver sighed and scratched at a fading scar. He was lucky he was friends with the right people (Selina, a stripper), who knew how to get the right kind of cream to make them fade. Otherwise, he'd be covered. There'd be no skin left to scar.

"Fifty-seven and three eight-hundredths of a second multiplied by pi." He muttered under his breath, irritated at the viscous pace the class was moving at. Somehow, Clark had convinced the teacher to sit them together, and the brunette was obviously lost in the math, staring from his notes to the board with blank eyes. The rest of the class wasn't doing much better.

Honestly, the math wasn't that hard. There were only so many ways to screw up basic multiplication and division. The class was just shouting out random answers now, while the teacher glared at them all and tried to explain why math was easy.

To give credit to the other students, Oliver _had _gotten stuck at one point, between the radicals and the quadratic equation, but only because he'd drifted off for a few minutes and had forgotten what problem they were working on. Getting back on track had been child's play for him.

_Says the guy who studies medical books in their spare time. _He thought bitterly, eyes flicking over to the clock, and then to Clark.

...Clark. Clark was the problem. The guy seemed intent on figuring out how Oliver worked, why he did what he did. Like Olilie was some puzzle to be figured out, or a problem to be solved. He looked at Ollie like he wanted to...help. With anything. And Oliver wasn't used to people looking that way, especially at himself. And growing too close to Clark would only make it harder than it already was to lie. Clark knew how to see through his fibs, _and_ he knew about Oliver's scars, after less than a week.

He had to break it off before the problem grew. Clark couldn't know what he did, was doing. It was his burden to bear, and his alone.

He blinked when the teacher called on him. "You're acting quiet over there, Mr. Queen. What, pray tell, do you have written?"

Clark's eyes were on him. Clark's eyes were on him, and damn it, that made it so much harder to focus on what he was saying. "Fifty-seven and three eight-hundredths of a second multiplied by pi"

The teacher stared at him. The class stared at him.

Clark was still staring at him. Fuck.

"E-excuse me?" The teacher asked, disbelief written in her voice. "What did you say?"

"I said," Oliver felt irritation flaring in the pit of his stomach, "I _said_ fifty-seven and three eight-hundredths of a second multiplied by pi. It's the answer." She remained blank. He gestured to the board. "To the _question_?"

"Oh." She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Very good, Mr. Queen. Would you like to show your work to the class?"

"Would you like them to copy it and then refer to it every single time a homework question like that pops up?" He retorted, sitting back in his chair and smirking. A couple students glared. Tommy, his partner in science, just tapped his shoulder to lean forward and ask, "Hey, I can copy off of it after class right?"

"Sure." Oliver muttered in reply, strapping his gaze to the board when he felt Clark's eyes drift to the clock and then back to him curiously.

"How did you do that?" He asked while the teacher moved on, seemingly over the uncomfortable exchange, picking on the other side of the classroom. "I don't see any work on your paper."

"Mental math works wonders." Oliver replied coldly, stiffening as Clark continued to invade his personal space. "Absolute wonders."

"Oh." Clark retreated to his side of the desk, and Oliver sighed in relief. Just two more periods...possibly sitting next to his own personal psychologist. Two more periods, and he could go home. As if home was even where he wanted to be.

* * *

School was over. School was finally over. Oliver slipped into the froth of teenagers as a last attempt in ditching Clark, his actions successful. No one could ever overestimate the power of teenagers exiting a school. Dodging through the crowd in almost dance-like motions, he managed to get himself through the two glass doors that led out the back way.

From there, he avoided his classmates by doubling back to the science department and passing through the long glass hallway at the end of it to the dorms.

This all happened within the span of twenty minutes (he'd had to wait for the last of the students to dwindle out), and now the entire school was silent, save for the wildlife in the courtyard and the quiet, muffled noises of the basketball team losing pitifully to the School for the Blind and Deaf, or SBD for short, whose players couldn't even hear the buzzer.

He sighed, finding that he'd missed the silence. His old "home" had been in the middle of nowhere-literally, it's name was No-Where-which was basically just like the mountains near Lake Chelan but green and lake-less. But as a result, seldom were there other neighbors, and it had always been quiet.

Frowning as the sound of footsteps filled the hallway, he glanced in both directions only to find that there was nowhere to run: the entire hall was made of glass, and he was too far in it to go back and shuffle inconspicuously in the science labs. All he could hope was that it wasn't someone he knew.

"Oliver?" Shit on him. "I didn't know you had a dorm."

"I don't." He admitted, eyes everywhere but Clark, who was now standing in front of him, arms folded over his chest. "I was going to-"

"It's almost funny," Clark chuckled, and Ollie could almost feel his mocking-but-friendly smile. "I can already tell you're lying."

"Why are you here?" The blonde retorted, eyes resting on the wall just to the left of Clark's face. He needed to get out of here-fast. As though responding to his urgency, Clark's movements became even more leisurely.

"I dorm." He replied, still grinning. "But I forgot to make up a lab last week, so I'm going now to do it." A pause, before. "Hey, you're good at math and science, right?"

Oliver was right about to say know when he added, "-Since you're studying medical books and all."

God mother-"Yeah." Oliver gritted. "I guess."

"Can you help me with the lab, then? I'm stuck in some places where there's no results."

He really needed to get out of here. "I need to go, actually, so-"

"It'll only take a second!" Clark replied earnestly, locking elbows with him and pulling him away.

* * *

Clark fumbled around with the switch of the bunsen burner while Oliver read over his procedure. He watched the blond's face carefully, noting that while it appeared to be blank, there was an underbelly of aggregation and-fear? He froze. _Oh my god. What if he's late getting home because of me. If he has abusive parents and he gets home late and gets hit because of it it'll be all my-_

"Clark!" He looked up. Oliver was waving the report in front of his face. By instinct, Clark did a half-flinch, and the bunsen burner sparked to life. He heard the other yelp and drop the papers, and he was quick to turn off the burner before looking onward in horror.

The sleeve of Oliver's shirt was completely black at the forearm, like it'd been burning for minutes instead of seconds. When he reached out his hand to touch his sleeve, the black fell away like small bits of charcoal. But that wasn't what was horrifying.

"Oh, god," Clark reached forward and grabbed Oliver by the wrist, forcing them closer together in order to get a better look, ignoring the avid attempts at getting away. "What happened?!"

There was a deep, purple bruising, that was blue and nearly black in some areas, a mucky yellow around the edges. The small, white-tinted segments littering underneath reminded Clark that there were scars everywhere, and the shock on his face quickly turned into a frown as he watched Oliver attempt to twist his arm to freedom.

"Nothing!" The blonde said, voice betraying how uncomfortable he was. "Nothing happened! I tripped on some stairs and hit my arm on the railing."

Oliver still hadn't met his eye, not since they'd bumped into each other, and it was really beginning to bug him. Especially when he lied after being told straight to his face that he sucked at it by the person who he was lying to. "Don't lie." He forced himself to calm his grip, switching his position to hold Oliver's hand. His voice became softer, more comforting. "You can tell me."

And he almost did, Clark could tell. Under all that pain and-remorse?-he could see the need to tell someone, the absolutely pure need to confide in someone trusted, and the freakishly strong will pushing it back into the recess of the mind. But then, like a switch had flipped, Oliver's face slipped into a blank mask, the only emotion still seen swelling beneath his eyes, which were facing the clock.

"I can't." He muttered. Then, as he tugged his arm free, he met Clark's eyes. "I can't."

Clark froze. It was like all of the shattering heartbreak resounding in those brown irises flooded into his own blue ones, hitting him head-on like a collision. He reminded himself to breathe, and suddenly understood why Oliver couldn't say anything. "Thats okay." He put a hand on Oliver's bicep, and while the blond's eyes snapped away, he held his gaze. "Just...if you ever need anything, don't be afraid to drop by."

There was that little shift in Oliver's expression that told him he was about to lie. "I'll keep that in mind."

And just like that, Clark realized how close they were. The heat radiating off of Oliver was warm and comforting, and he almost found himself wanting to hug his classmate, squeeze all the heat out of him. The labs were incredibly cold, making the decision even more appealing.

Away. He let go and backed up slightly, already missing the warmth under his fingertips. "S-" What was he trying to say again? "Sorry." He finished lamely. Oliver's lips curled up at the edges ever-so-slightly, so that Clark barely managed to catch it before the smile was gone.

"Clark." He froze. "Thanks. I know it's probably bugging you." A wince. "Been bugging you. So...thanks."

Clark smiled. Suddenly, the labs didn't feel so cold anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**:** I want to thank everyone who reviewed :) It really made my day! I definitely plan on continuing the story, even if it takes me forever to update...but I think I did pretty well for someone who had to memorize 100 countries, 30 rivers, and 50 major geographical features in a week.**

**...moving on. Cudos to everyone who recognized some of the people from other series.**

**School's finally kicking into gear, so I'm not sure how long it'll take me to do updates. Hopefully nothing more than two weeks or so.**

**Tuxer-I'm glad you like it! No, Ollie isn't rich in this. He's going off of government money, a family friend (who'll come into play later) pulled some strings so he doesn't have to live with anyone even though he's a minor. His parents died when he was young, and he had no living relatives. He lived with the family friend until he was fifteen. I hope that clears things up.**

**Also-to avoid any further confusion, Clark wears a mask in this-as Superman, I mean. It's blue (and no, it doesn't sparkle). **

**Enjoy the fic! Don't forget to review :)**

**xxx, Eve**

**Chapter 3  
**

And Suddenly, Everything Changes

A deep breath, and he was off. _Up, up, and away _he mused, and had to wonder where that quote had come from.

He still couldn't get over the fact that he could fly. How many teenagers could say they do that? _Fly._ There are easier things to do.

It was still bright-the sun hadn't set yet. The sky was clear and blue, and the expanse of clean buildings and streets made everything seem so...ideal. Like a Utopia-though the place was constantly raided by mutants and evil scientists and, on occasion, "indestructible" robots. Now, it just seemed beautiful.

He frowned. Something was off. Not that he wasn't enjoying the peace, but there was no way this was possible. If anything, at least a common robbery or two was bound to happen. But nothing-an hour of patrol, and nothing. It just wasn't normal. His vision flickered to x-ray (he'd decided to call it that, after a good minute or two of decision-making) for just a second, and his hearing sharpened.

Ah. He swooped down to avoid a telephone wire and headed sideways-_sideways!_-down the alley, landing before it forked. The sound of punches hitting brick and some sort of musical thrum, like someone was picking at a cello string. The sound of metal ripping through fabric and lodging itself into the pavement. A muffled gasp of a woman.

He turned the corner and surprise littered his face. A teenager, probably around seventeen or eighteen, was suited up. As in, _suited up_ suited up. He had on a dark green kevlar sleeveless hoodie, with a lighter green band around his arm. Metallic and vivid evergreen plates were over his chest and abdomen. At his back was a quiver, full of arrows. Tight-was it kevlar?-pants the same evergreen shade covered his legs and, no, he realized, there was no way someone could glide so effortlessly in something that wasn't spandex. The arrow in the teen's arms was long, at least three and a half feet, with several different strings across it.

The teen didn't even glance in his direction before shooting another arrow at the mugger's shirt sleeve, pinning him to the ground, before reaching down and grabbing the woman's purse. He handed it to her, green mask crinkling with his face. Clark wondered how he got it to do that. His own mask was made of some sort of plastic material that he had to stick on with a mob of spirit gum and determination.

"Thank you." The woman said, still somewhat shaken. The teen nodded at her, turning his shoulders so he was partway facing Clark.

"Hi." The brunette said quietly as the woman scurried away. "Uh-what's your name?"

The greed-clad hero seemed to ponder that for a moment. "Green Arrow." He said gruffly. Clark nodded, and turned so he could root through his pocket for a piece of paper.

"I think I have a number I could give you if you ever need any-" He stopped once looking back up. The space that had once contained Green Arrow was now vacated.

The hero was gone, leaving a stony silence in his wake.

* * *

"Hey," Selina greeted, sitting across the diner table from Lonnie Machin. Lonnie was just a kid, around 9ish, who'd escaped from an orphanage in the town over. But he was smart for his age; freakishly, incredibly smart, and it made conversations with him worthwhile. He was selective in his expertise, which was mostly in philosophy and english, but what he knew was set in stone for life.

Selina was another story. From what she'd told Oliver (though he had no way of knowing if it was the truth or not), she grew up in an ordinary home until she was 17, running off with some pimp guy while her parents mourned their loss. He'd knocked her around a couple of times, nothing too serious, until he lost his job and beat her. She worked as a prostitute until she got enough money to disappear, and since then, she couldn't get hired anywhere else. She was nineteen now.

"Hey," he replied, sitting down next to Lonnie. There was another seat beside her, but there wasn't a menu anywhere near it. He picked up his own and scanned through it. "We expecting someone?"

"Don't talk like a hobo." Selina admonished cooly, velvety red lips pursed as she flipped through the lists of food. "You're getting an education. Use it."

"Yeah." Oliver muttered. The diner was a classic american one, complete with the checkered floor tiles and roller-skate waitresses. Surprisingly cheap, Aunt Mel's Diner gave food on the house every blue moon to their loyal customers. Tonight was one of those nights. One of the waitresses, a girl with ponytailed yellow-blonde hair and striking blue eyes, skated over.

"Hello, Dinah," Lonnie greeted, handing her his menu with a coordinated smile. "How are you today?"

"I'm okay." Dinah replied. "You guys ready to order, then?"

"Yeah. I'll have a cheeseburger and a side of fries." Oliver said, still rather bored. Selina sighed wistfully and handed their menus over.

"I'll have what he's getting." That, and a confirmative nod from Lonnie showed that they were all going to have the same thing. Dinah eyed Selina jealously.

"I wish I could eat food like that and not gain weight." She sighed, pursing her lips. Selina smirked.

"It doesn't come without a price." Came the reply, and Dinah shrugged before skating back behind the counter. "Unlike someone I know, who never pays up."

Oliver glared at her. "What do you mean?"

"What does life mean?" Lonnie asked passively. "What does government mean, if it is governed by the governable?"

"I mean you've been getting awful close to Clark lately." Selina remarked wisely, smirk growing into a cheshire grin as she avoided the teen's gazes nonchalantly.

"What do you know about Clark and I?!" Ollie protested, and she smirked at the lack of him wondering _how_, because that just made it too easy.

"I don't know, you two looked awfully cozy in that lab of yours."

Oliver froze. He'd figured Clark was just a touchy-feely person. Was Selina suggesting what he thought she was suggesting? "I'm not gay!" He exclaimed incredulously. "He's just-he's just clingy, Selina, god!"

"Isn't that what you said about Ivy?" Lonnie asked blankly, and Oliver shot him a glare.

"Ivy is the exception." He muttered. "She was bat-shit crazy."

"Language." Selina said, sounding like her concentration was elsewhere. "How's it going out as green?"

"It's...clear." He replied. Lonnie ignored them both now, sketching different 3-d cubes on the napkin with the butter knife. "And for you?"

Selina ran her hand through her long brown hair and smiled secretively. "We should meet sometime. The new art museum just opened up. It would be nice to take a look at some of the paintings."

"Hm." Oliver thought through it for a minute. "That could work. As long as it's after hours."

"It always is." She replied, reaching into her purse and pulling out a blackberry. He watched her delete all of the contacts, and begin to add her own, wondering whose phone she'd stolen this time. How long it would work. Dinah rolled out and began to wash some of the tables. "Any intel on Superman?"

"He's definitely a meta." He replied, eyes now on Dinah. "Whether that could be a threat or not isn't clear."

"And his identity?"

Oliver hesitated for a minute. "Not sure." Dinah moved to the next table. "Metas are dangerous, especially when they don't know the full extent of their power." Dinah skated away, back behind to the kitchens. "If he's deemed a threat, you know what we have to do." Selina was good at what she did-almost too good, sometimes-but Oliver was good at protecting, and that's what he did best out of the two of them. He wouldn't hurt anyone until he was absolutely sure they were a threat.

"Are you talking about Superman?" Dinah asked, and all both Lonnie and Oliver whipped around. _When did she...? _"Please, that man couldn't hurt a fly. Well," She paused. "Figuratively speaking."

"Actually, we were talking about metas in general." Selina replied smoothly as the food was set out in front of them. She took a fry. Dinah set the serving platter on one of the empty tables and sat down next to her. "What have you gotten?"

Ah. So Dinah was the source Selina had been getting information from. "His powers are increasing. His super strength increased as the need for it did. His powers flair when a need for them comes-whether Superman knows about that need or not."

"And if his powers get out of control?" Oliver asked, before taking a bite of the burger. "What happens when he can't control it?"

"It can't get that far." Dinah said simply. "Metas are different, not mental." She paused, trying to figure out how to explain it to them. "You've heard the story of how you can break someone's finger as easy as breaking a carrot, your brain just won't let you do it. There a maximum amount of strength you can use at one time, depending on the stretch of the brain, but there is a maximum limit. Superman has a strong moral that keeps him grounded-his strength with eventually reach a limit."

"Huh." Oliver replied, unconvinced. He wondered if Dinah knew who Selina was. Probably not, since Selina had only shown him by mistake (Lonnie figured it out within twenty minutes of knowing her). "Any other metas we should look out for?"

Dinah shrugged, taking a fry off his plate and munching quietly. "I heard there was a thunderstorm a while ago that hit some kid dead on, but he survived. Reporters say he's fine now, doctors let him go a few weeks ago."

"Hn." Lonnie was drifting from the conversation into his own little world, Oliver could tell.

"So how's work going?" He asked Selina suddenly, and she knew he wasn't talking about her stripper business. He tried to avoid that topic unless it was absolutely necessary, not because Selina was shy about it, but because she wasn't, and that made it...well, awkward, to say the least.

"Things are running smoothly." She replied. "I finished the tedious work, so it'll be blue skies from here." Blue skies. If they had a job tonight, it would be something important. Very important. "Madison will be waiting for us back at the office to help patch up the details." Office-probably Selina's apartment. It was a junky place with a broken lock and rusty water, where she and a little girl Steph grew up (though they called Steph Madison in public, just in case). It worked though. It couldn't get more broken then it already was, so there were no worries about random fights in it. And patch things up-they could get hurt on this one. Great.

"Super." He glowered, and could feel her smirk without seeing it. Tonight was going to be another long one.

* * *

After the first day of school, Clark hadn't been able to get Oliver out of his head. Not that Oliver acted particularly friendly around him, but the guy definitely liked him (Clark could tell. He just could). Now, he couldn't get Green Arrow out. He couldn't help but wonder why the kid-there was no way he was over 18-was so...distant. Unresponsive. He hadn't even said anything to the woman he'd saved.

He had half a mind to track Arrow down and use his new and improved vision to sort through the trouble of the hidden identity. Then maybe he could prove that not everyone was out to get you. But that would probably just make Arrow trust him even less, and that wasn't an option. In a lot of ways, he felt like he had when he first met Oliver. There was definitely more to him than meets the eye, that's for sure. And Green Arrow-definitely the same case.

His cell phone buzzed on the school desk. He'd come out to the commons to figure out a few math problems with Teddy, but the athlete had gone to football practice an hour ago, leaving Clark to worm his way through the problems alone (seriously, who buys forty watermelons and sells them to a salesclerk, no one does that in real life).

He checked the screen before flipping it open. "Hello?"

"Heythisis-uh-there'sarobberygoingonand-"

Who the heck is it?

"Who is this?"

"Uh, that doesn't matter. I-uh-" It sounded like a kid, maybe six, seven. "There'sarobberygoingon." A deep breath. "A-and you need to stop it."

He assumed the child thought he was superman and not Clark at this point. "Oh. Are you okay?"

He heard a voice in the background, a woman, whose angry muffled words were along the lines of, "Wally, who are you talking on the phone with?"

"Hello?" Clark asked again politely, waiting for a response. Wally's voice came back-the woman had left. "Are you still there, Wally?"

"Howdoyouknowmyname?" Another deep breath. "Just-it's in the new art museu-" The line went dead. Clark sighed and ran a hand through his hair before shoving his papers into his backpack and going back to his dorm to change. Looks like he was right-the peace hadn't lasted.

* * *

Clark peeked around the corner before slipping down the hallway. He didn't want to startle the night guards or anything. He just wanted to take a quick look to make sure no one was stealing anything before heading back to the dorms-he was tired. The more his powers increased, the more exhausted he felt. _  
_

His superhearing detected two heartbeats-which was strange, because that was it. The entire museum was hauntingly silent, save for the sound of cars cruising down the highway next door. Just two heartbeats, one slow, one in a pace that was almost hypnotizing.

Lifting himself a few inches off of the ground so he didn't make any footstep noise, he creeped down the hall and turned.

There were two silhouettes in the room, and he didn't need x-ray vision to know who one of them was. He watched in silent wonder as Green Arrow easily dismantled a painting, tracing the rims of it carefully so as to not damage the art. The way he handled it was as though it were fragile-which was strange, considering most robbers Superman stopped disregarded how they treated the artwork. They would shove them into bags and be on their way. However, Arrow was taking his time as he covered the entire thing in some sort of clear wrap, with almost painstaking grace and deftness, and set it on the ground.

And just like that, a forearm slammed into his throat, and as he raised his hand to pull it away, a black pump came up to trap his wrist between the bottom of the shoe and the four-inch heel, which had spikes on the inside of it. He winced and knew better than to draw away.

The woman in front of him was beautiful. She had long, straight dark brown hair that traveled down at least four inches past her shoulders. A mask, black, covered her face, but didn't block out the creamy beige skin. There were some sort of goggles on her head that came off looking like cat ears. Her outfit was a skin-tight black suit with a black utility belt strapped around her waist.

"What's the matter?" A smooth high alto tone blended into his ear as her burgundy lips brushed against the shell of his ear. "Cat got your tongue?"

He shivered. He wasn't usually like this with girls, but it seems she was an exception. She ignored him and turned to Green Arrow. "Hey, Green, looks like we have a visitor."

Arrow folded his arms over his chest and watched Clark with a blank expression before turning away. "Do what you want. I got what I came here for." He carefully grabbed the edges of the painting and pulled himself into the darkness, promptly disappearing into the night.

* * *

"You stayed." Catwoman stretched luxuriously, watching the sun rise. "And I thought you didn't care."

"I care." Green Arrow replied quietly, and set the painting on the table. "When can she get it out?"

"Well, we have to make sure the museum won't steal it again." Catwoman replied. "And double up on Superman to make sure he doesn't intervene." She did the mental math in her head quickly and efficiently. "It should get back to the original owners sometime in November."

Arrow nodded, checking his watch. "I have to-"

"Sleep." Selina smiled, taking off her mask. "I have you covered."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Time to introduce new characters! :D Dinah will play a role in the plot (she later ties in a few characters). I never actually realized I forgot to say what Catwoman did to Superman until I finished writing this, but I'm sure you can use your imagination ;)**

******Hope you guys like this chapter! Thanks to everyone who reviewed! You're all making my day :)**

******Sorry for the late update! Christmas Break is coming up, so hopefully I can update again soon!**

** xxx,**

** Eve**

Chapter 4

In which Clark receives startling news, and change is not approved

Oliver didn't show up for his morning classes Friday. That was the first thing Clark had noticed.

It wasn't like he was stalking the blonde (despite what Teddy accused). He just wanted to help Oliver, and he didn't know why, but he felt like the recent stress the teen had appeared to be taking on was somehow all his fault. So when Clark was taking a trip to the library to grab a book for his English group in the middle of fifth period, catching a glimpse of Ollie had made him more than a little happy.

"So you showed up today." The brunette grinned, stepping around the books to get to the person on the other side. He frowned when there was no reply. "Oliver?" Nothing. He carefully steadied a pile of teetering psychology books and rounded to the window that Oliver had become so fond of.

Oliver was asleep, a book in his lap. His skin was luminous as the sunlight bounced off of it, hitting Clark full on. He felt like he was staring at some sort of, well, _angel_. And that was saying something. Oliver's hair was mussed and silky, and his cheeks were ever-so-slightly flushed. His expression was peaceful, serene.

He didn't know what to do. The blond looked absolutely beautiful. There was a stir of possessiveness inside of him that he wasn't used to having, and wondered what it meant. Slowly, he stumbled closer to him. Something urged him to lean inward, break the very thin space bubble Oliver possessed. _He smells like cherry blossoms... _Clark blushed. What the heck was he thinking?! Oliver was just a friend. _Just _a friend.

Still, he found himself scooting closer, crouching to the slumbering boy's level, observing the way the light seemed to filter through Oliver's skin like his face was made of a beautiful luminescent glass before bounding onto another surface. Noting how, when asleep, Oliver's face remained smooth and perfect, free of blemishes despite the rest of his body, not crumpled by his usual expressions. Remembering how soft his skin looked, how unbelievably kissable his lips were, pursed slightly in his sleep-

Clark immediately flew backward. Oliver stirred momentarily, curling up farther against the window into the sunlight, before falling back into a steady breathing pattern once more. _What's going on with me...? _He gulped. Whatever it was, he needed time to think.

Silently, he turned away, quickly locating the book he needed in order to complete the english assignment and returning to class with more than one perturbing thought on his mind.

* * *

"Green Arrow."

Clark never failed in justice. It wasn't something he'd done, and it wasn't something he was ever going to do. He was going to find out more about GA, if he was a villain or a hero. He had a feeling the new figure wasn't all bad-he'd saved a guy right in front of Superman. With all of the new and confusing things he'd encountered with Oliver, he needed a win. Badly.

Speaking of which, he was now in costume: his mask stuck uncomfortably over the upper half of his face. There was no way he would do this as Clark.

GA turned, fist still closed around a collapsed thug's shirt, holding the battered face up and within hitting range. His fist was muddled with blood. He didn't say anything as the perpetrator struggled.

"Who are you?"

GA snorted, turned back to the thug and carefully fit his fingers into the man's mouth. A sickening noise was heard before the man screamed and GA let go, allowing the man to escape. Pinched between his fingers was a tooth. A _tooth_. Clark thought he was going to be sick.

"I'm Green Arrow." He replied monotonously, before studying the tooth. It was metal-coated.

"You just pulled out a man's _tooth_. You're an art thief." He stepped forward and gripped GA's wrist tightly, stopping the hero from leaping away into the darkness. There was something seriously wrong with that situation. People didn't dress up like superheroes, save someone, steal art, and then rip a man's tooth out. GA looked annoyed, almost. Like the conversation they were having was normal, or irking at best.

"I don't see you flying me up up and away to prison." Came the gruff reply. Clark didn't ease his grip, and the green-clad hero sighed. "It's a bomb. Do you want it to go off and kill both of us?"

The response was immediate. Clark shoved the hero away, and GA took the tooth and threw it into the air. It flew onto the roof of the building nearby, and a popping noise met their ears before an explosion followed. GA was thrown back by the wave of heat. Clark, thanks to his super strength, managed to steady his footing in time.

Clark smirked before holding out a hand. "Need some help up?"

"Not from you." GA replied, pushing himself to his feet and backing away from Clark, ready to move defensively depending on how the confrontation went. He stood there silently, waiting for Clark to tell him why they were having a conversation. Clark himself was wondering why GA would take the time to actually talk to him. It didn't make sense: if he was a bad guy, like the side of him that had stolen art, then he would have run. If he was a good guy, the one that Clark encountered stopping a mugging, then he'd act like he had then and dashed off without any large responses. Either he was too arrogant a thief to run, or there was something wrong.

"You..." Clark squinted, trying to figure out what was different. GA shuffled back a millimeter, warning Clark that the hero was wary and annoyed, and more than likely to scamper if he didn't talk soon. "I meant _who _are you. As...a person."

"I'm Green Arrow." GA replied again, looking slightly confused.

"Yeah, I get that." The Superman part of Clark was beginning to get annoyed, even if journalist-Clark was trying to tell him that there was something very familiar about the way this conversation was being held by only one party. "But why save that woman in the alley when you're just going to steal art from her museum anyway?"

If there was one thing Clark wasn't, it was stupid. He'd seen her face in the newspaper on the way to school once. She was the director of the museum GA had robbed with Catwoman.

"She stole it." GA replied, like he was discussing the weather. "I stole it back."

"So...it belonged to you originally?" Just who the heck _was_ GA? "Are you rich or something?" Something about that statement seemed humorous to GA.

"I stole it back." He said again. "The original owners will have it soon enough."

"How do I know you're not lying?" Clark shot back.

"You don't" GA stated simply. "Whether or not you believe me doesn't matter to me." Well, if GA wanted to piss Clark off, he'd done it.

"I don't know who you think you are, but there are _laws_ in this world for a _reason_. If you go off and break them, then I'm _more than inclined _to bring you in, no matter who you are." Screw being 'gentle, too-nice' Clark. He was tired, his mind was still focusing on Oliver, and he didn't feel like dancing around a subject matter because all he wanted to know was whether he could trust GA or not, and so far things weren't going too well.

"Who do you think _you _are?" GA snarled in reply, stepping forward and invading Clark's personal space bubble. "You _don't _know who I am, so explain to me who died and made _you-"_ He never got to finish his sentence.

Two streets away, gunfire went off. "_Damn it!_" GA yelled, frustrated, before pushing Clark away and running towards the fight. Not one to be deterred, Clark flew up and over the buildings, landing between the guns with his renewed clarity.

Two men were pointing guns at each other. One of them, a tall man in a black suit with gaunt, gruesome features, had his arm wrapped around the waist of a struggling teenager, who appeared to either be wounded or drugged. The other was dressed in a lab coat, with clear, plastic glasses on and several chemical stains coating his skin. His hands were trembling as he held the gun, as though trying to decide whether to shoot the man or the boy.

Green Arrow rounded the corner, and the sound of a string being gripped and pulled back proved that he was getting ready to launch an arrow. Clark put himself between the two men, trying to gain control of the situation.

"_Give it back!"_ The lab-coated man yelled. He sounded like a little kid whose favorite toy had been taken away. "You'll hurt it!"

"I'm not an _it!_" The teenager yelled back, trying to wrench the Suit's arm away from him. "Let me _go!_"

"It's mine." The Suit growled. "Just because you caught it doesn't make it yours!"

Clark frowned, and barely had time to move away before an arrow whizzed by his face at an impeccable speed and drove itself into the gun just between the Suit's finger and the trigger, pulling it out of his hand and into the pavement. The teenager saw his window of opportunity and knocked his head backwards against the Suit's chin, finally getting released from the tight hold, and literally blurred for a minute before reappearing next to the lab-coated man.

"I am _not _a thing." He said determinedly, before wrenching the gun out of his hand and dismantling it with astonishing speed, tossing the remnants to the ground. The coated man panicked for a second before running down the alley-only to halt, just in time to stop himself from pricking his nose on the arrow GA had strung and ready to be released. His eyes widened considerably in shock and agitation before he appeared overwhelmed, and fainted on the spot.

The teenager looked at the coated man uncertainly, before his eyes strayed to Clark. "Superman." He seemed a little wary now, ready to flee.

Clark honestly didn't care. His brain was still trying to clog along with the fact that the teen had blurred. _Blurred._ Blurred. How exactly had that happened? "What's your name?" He asked gently, ignoring GA, who was silent and ignored in the background.

"Uh..." The teen seemed to consider running before he answered, "Bart."

"Well, Bart," Clark said, trying to sound authoritative and friendly at the same time. "That's-"

"-quite an outfit you've got there." GA finished his sentence, stepping into the moonlight. Bart visibly jumped.

It was true, to GA's credit. Bart had on a bright red t-shirt with a yellow lightning bolt inside a circle in the middle of it. He had white jeans on, and red shoes with the same logo as his shirt. "Yeah." Bart didn't seem shy or worried at all now. He just seemed like a cheerful, if not slightly unguarded, kid. "They were custom made. Didn't cost me much, though." He smirked, like he knew something they didn't.

"How old are you? Where do you live?" Clark tired to keep them all on track. Bart turned back to him.

"None of your business." He said, crossing his arms and grinning even wider now.

"Big talk to two guys who could kick your ass." GA said, and Clark wondered between what times his personality had changed _yet again_. Maybe it wasn't a disorder-maybe it was just GA adapting to a certain situation? _Whatever._

_"_Yeah, well, you don't worry about much when you have super speed." Bart replied, still with his easy-going demeanor, before his eyes widened and he frowned. "How did you do that? I haven't told anyone that before!"

GA shrugged, looking over to Clark as if waiting for his reaction. The uncalled-for sign of respect threw Clark slightly off guard.

"Uh," he tried to sound educated. "What?"

GA snorted. Clark blushed, thankful his mask would hide it at least a little bit.

"You tricked me." He began to take steps back. Clark reached out his hand to stop the kid when suddenly there was a blur and-Bart was gone.

"That went well." Clark grumbled, turning to speak to GA, only to find the hero's spot vacated: Arrow was gone.

Clark sighed. It really wasn't his week.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey :D So, if anyone's reading this but doesn't actually watch Smallville or YJ, Bart Allen has super speed (as most Allens do). Unlike the other chapters, this one picks up right where the last one let off-with GA disappearing, leaving Clark alone in the alley to figure out what's going on.**

**Thanks for all the reviews! You're all amazing :) I'm glad you like the fic!**

**xxx,**

**Eve**

* * *

Chapter 5

_Enter Stage Right_

Oliver felt dizzy as he made his way down the alley. His head rang loudly, and he groaned and leaned against the wall for support. "Fuck." He brought his hand to the back of his head and felt blood and a lump. The stupid bastard he'd been fighting earlier had hit him with a brick. A _brick_.

He could hear Superman in the background, searching the alleys for him, and the groans of the two fallen men. _I need backup. _He thought, brushing his fingers under the kevlar cloth and pulling out his cell phone with difficulty. Flipping it open, he pressed speed dial 2 and shakily brought the phone up to his ear.

"Selina." He growled, not waiting to see if she'd picked up. She always did.

_"I'm in the middle of a job, Oliver." _He could hear someone moaning in the background. The slap of leather._ "What the hell is it?"_

"I..." He coughed into his elbow and groaned. Now wasn't the time to be hacking up blood. He kept coughing.

"Green Arrow?!" Superman sounded closer. _Damn it_.

_"Oliver, where are you." _Selina sounded worried. By the sounds of the man in the background, her shift was almost over. She would want to know where he was.

"Forget it." He muttered, closing the phone and abandoning it in one of the dumpsters. Silently, he cursed Bart for running away. The kid was the only thing that would keep Superman from chasing him down, and they'd bolted at the same time. _Why was Superman even looking for him? _He wheezed slightly and felt his legs begin to give out.

An arm hooked around his shoulders to keep him from falling, and he struggled slightly before another hand moved to keep him still. "Holy crap! What-what happened?!" Superman. Of course.

"Let me go." Oliver protested weakly, before he closed his eyes and passed out.

* * *

"Oliver?!" Selina exclaimed, ignoring the man below groan as she stepped away from him, slipping the fifties between her skin and her leather lingerie and slipping on a jacket and a pair of jeans. She couldn't tell if her flip phone was being trashy again or if he actually couldn't answer. "If you don't answer right now, I'm finding you and kicking your ass."

Worry flooded her veins. _Oliver, you better be okay_. She exited the crappy one-room apartment, ignoring the men's cat calls in the distance, and walked down the steps onto the streets. She strutted over to her motorcycle-BMW, stolen and beautiful, with a sleek, mirror-like black surface-and removed the cash from her g-string to stick it between the leather cushions. Then, stepping into the black of the alley for a minute, she began to change.

When she left, the alley, she wasn't Selina. She flicked the cat-ear goggles over her eyes and slid one matte black leather-clad leg over the side of her cycle, nimble fingers moving to hot-wire it. Leaning forward in anticipation, she felt a jolt as the vehicle flew forward, and her heels dug into the foot catchers.

The motorcycle moved just as smoothly as it looked. She wove between honking cars and policemen easily, turning and stopping spur of the moment with little difficulty. She ran through his patrol in her mind, wondering where he would at 6 p.m. The sun was just dipping down under the buildings, the sky darkening into twilight. She gritted her teeth and pressed herself against the cycle as she turned into an alley and drove through a hole in the wooden barricade.

Driving with one hand, she called Oliver with the other. Her heart skipped when she heard the ringtone blast into the frigid air and stopped the motorcycle, stepping off and remembering to pocket the money before leaving the cycle there, keys still in the ignition. She was about to search for the source of the ringing when something blurred past her, leaving her momentarily stunned before she whipped around.

A kid, probably fifteen or so, with wavy chestnut hair and bright, _innocent_ green eyes. His skin wasn't scarred or marred by blemishes or any sort of scrapes or cuts; he probably hadn't seen Oliver, then. She was surprised when he began 'ahh'-ing at the BMW, bemused when he removed the keys and looked at them curiously. He looked over to her and grinned before averting his eyes to the BMW. She raised an eyebrow before sighing and scrolling through her phone to a picture of Green Arrow. She walked over and held it in front of the kid's face, and he stared at it blankly. "You seen him, kid?" She asked, voice low and sultry.

"N-" He paused to vibrate. _Literally._ She made a note to remember what he looked like and ask around for his name later. "Yeah. Yeah," He pointed to the picture, "That guy-that guy was with Superman!" Selina frowned. "They totally just took out these two guys that were-" He vibrated again, voice incomprehensible, "-so crash."

"Crash?" She wondered, never having heard it before.

The kid shrugged a little, before looking at her contemplatively. "Where's KF? You'd know, right? Since you guys both work with Bats and all."

"Bats?" Selina asked.

"A little after your time, then?" The kid grinned. "'s all crash. So what about Flash? He's around?"

"Flash?" Selina asked after a moment, before grinning and stepping forward, backing the kid into the wall and putting her hand next to his head. "Little critters like you shouldn't be out so late in the dark."

"Yeah, I get told that a lot." He was unperturbed. She gritted her teeth, but stayed where she was. "So what's up with you? Are you still, like, you know..." He gestured. "Stealing stuff?"

She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pushed him against the wall, his feet leaving the ground. "Where's Green Arrow?" She growled, and he laughed shakily while putting his hands up in defeat.

"I-I dunno! Look, I'm just trying to get back home, I'm not really supposed to be here but there were these guys and they kind of kidnapped me-er, flashnapped?-and then, I guess he's supposed to be GA, then, and Cl-oops! Spoiler! I meant Supes showed up and helped me escape but I knew if they knew I was here I'd totally be feeling the mode later so I-" He grimaced as Selina ground his back into the brick wall.

"Kid, where the hell is GA?" She growled.

"I told you, I don't know!" The kid exclaimed. "Trust me, Selina, if I _knew_ I'd _tell you_! But I had to dash-er, flash?-before they kinda really saw me, 'cause I'd get in trouble when I got back but I did-"

"_How the hell do you know my name?_" She hissed, pressing him so tightly against the wall he struggled to breathe. He turned a little blue and his fingers grasped weakly over her hands as he struggled.

She ran through a list in her head. Kill him, maim him, kidnap him, knock him out, drug him...but she needed to find Oliver. She loosened her grip and let his feet settle back onto the ground. He coughed quietly for a minute before wheezing, "-but I s-" he coughed, "saw him plant a tracker on me...before I ran."

Selina breathed out a sigh of relief before flipping the kid around and handcuffing his arms. "You're coming with me." She grabbed him by the back of the shirt and pulled him forcefully over to the BMW, expression pissed, and threw him onto the back of the seat. She climbed on in front of him and pulled his arms over her head, humming in peace as the motorcycle rumbled to life. "Try not to fall off."

* * *

Oliver groaned. His head was ringing, and he was pretty sure his eyes were closed because he couldn't see anything but black. He smelled food nearby, and could hear the clanging of pots and pans in the distance. His entire body burned with heat, and his fingers groped around for it's source to find that he was covered in blankets. Thoroughly confused, he ripped them off and opened his eyes.

He was in some sort of loft; there was a desk built into the wooden structure that kept the loft stable that was cluttered with books and various journalism paraphernalia. A camera case hung from a nail in the wall, along with a few coats and jackets, and light filtered in through an unframed window.

He felt briefly at home, before panic seared through his body and his hands flew to his face. His heart still beat quickly as he sighed in relief, fingers brushing over his leathery green mask. However, his shirt was missing, along with his pants. All he was wearing was boxers.

Seriously, _where the hell was he?_

"Stay still." His head snapped up. There was no way-_no way _this was happening to him. "Clark says you're a hero or something." The figure leaned forward, intent on making Oliver as uncomfortable as possible. Currently, he was succeeding. Oliver didn't know how it could get any more awkward. "So do you have superpowers or what?"

Best not to say anything. Stubbornly Oliver avoided the green-eyed gaze, opting to stare out the window.

"Seriously? You're a hero, not a kid." Oliver stiffened as he felt the guy stare at him harder. "Unless..._no way._ You're around my age, aren't you?" Cue impressed whistle. "I bet you even go to our school. Give me a hint-do I know you?"

"Tommy, you came here to study." _Shit._ There were more people? How many were there?

"Yeah?" Tommy said. "I don't see _them_ studying!"

Out of instinct, Oliver followed Tommy's outstretched finger to see that he was pointing at Teddy and a black-haired kid who held a striking resemblance to Tommy. They were sitting next to each other, leaning against the wall as they watched something on Teddy's iPod.

"Yeah, well, 'they' aren't annoying anyone." Teddy said, but his voice held no malice, just teasing humor. "C'mon, Billy. Let's grab some snacks." The pair stood up and walked over to the side of the loft, descending the ladder to get to the ground. Tommy grumbled something under his breath before following them.

"I found you outside of my house, in case you were wondering." Clark said carefully, now that it was just them. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "Is it true that you're our age?"

Oliver remained stiff, staring hard at the place where Billy and Teddy had been with a tight jaw.

"You're really hurt. Who did this to you? You've been unconscious for...a while."

Nothing. He wouldn't respond. Clark would get bored or tired of talking to a wall and leave, and Oliver would quietly find his gear and sneak out.

"Sorry Teddy and the others were here. I forgot they were supposed to show up and study with me." Oliver snorted. _Like they studied. _"I...I wouldn't know, since I'm not really a hero, but shouldn't you try to take better care of yourself?" Seeing that Oliver wasn't going to answer, Clark continued. "I think a true hero also thinks about the people that love him. How would they feel, seeing you like this?"

The questions dug into Oliver like a sword. "Trust me," He said lowly. "That's not a problem."

* * *

They'd been riding for a day. Currently, they were somewhere in California, hot red sand bordering both sides of the road. Bart vibrated a little in his spot against Selina and closed his eyes for the upteenth time. He hadn't gotten sleep since those two idiots had kidnapped him, and he was hungry. "Can we grab some food?"

"We can get food when we find Oliver." Selina said.

"Yeah, but how are you even going to do that?" Bart asked. "And I'm a speedster. You know, super speed? I need food. No food, no speedster."

"No Oliver, no food." She countered. "If he has a tracker on you, then there's a radio signal coming off of it, and there's a radio signal coming off of the tracking device. When they meet, they rebound and use the angle the waves hit at to pinpoint the location."

"So then it's basically a tracking device for both the user and the used." Bart sighed. "Seriously, though." He shifted a little in his seat, his eyes still closed. The wind ruffled his hair. "If I don't eat soon, I really could die. I know you; you're one of the good guys. You wouldn't let that happen."

He could almost _hear_ Selina gritting her teeth. "_Fine._ We stop in one hundred miles. But then we don't stop 'til we find Oliver."

"Yeah, yeah." Bart sighed. She seemed to have gotten used to him using her name now-that was an improvement, at least. He wondered where Bruce was, or GL, or all the other heroes he'd heard about. _Seriously **not** crash._ "So...how are you?" He bit his lip as his stomach growled loudly, pain knotting his stomach.

"None of your business," She replied as they entered a small town, "Don't attract any attention." With that, she pulled in front of a diner. Bart vibrated his wrists and the cuffs fell to the ground, and he stooped to pick them up before handing them to Selina. Ignoring her hostile glare, he made his way into the diner and fished in his pockets for money.

He grimaced as he pulled out a few quarters. _Looks like this one's on Selina. _He thought to himself, sitting himself down at a table and figuring that Selina was changing behind the store into civvies.

He drummed his fingers on the table before vibrating impatiently and standing up, checking to make sure Selina hadn't finished changing before ducking behind the counter and into the kitchen. A couple of the teenagers working the deep fryers glanced up at him, but he just pointed to the phone wired to the wall and shot them a questioning look.

"Go ahead." One of the girls said, before returning to her work. Bart nodded in gratitude before punching in a number he'd memorized years ago. He grimaced as the phone rang loudly. No one answered, and it went to voicemail.

_"If this is Bruce, give me back my BMW. I know you have at least forty of them in your basement and I actually need mine. If this isn't Bruce, then stop calling me. I probably won't answer anyway."_

Bart gulped. "I know who you are. And if you don't want it to go public, you'll meet me at-" He panicked for a minute, searching the wall for a contact sheet, "-Aunt Mel's Diner, near Smallville. Come alone." He hung up and gulped. He had a lot of work to do if Bruce wasn't incognito yet.

He gritted his teeth and his fingers slipped into his pocket, where his mask was. It was smooth and leathery against his fingers, and reminded him of home. Everything was different in this time-he couldn't even wear his costume in public, unless he was working. "Not a future worth returning to, Bart. Not a future worth returning to." He muttered to himself, before turning back and exiting the kitchen, sliding back down into the chair before Selina could notice his absence.

Even so, he found his stomach twisting itself into knots as he thought about what he was going to have to do.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the short chapter :P My brain is in the middle of melting. It's the day before spring break, and I got through six tests yesterday and read 60 pages of a French textbook. Hopefully over break I'll be able to update again!**

**XXX,**

** Eve**

Selina walked back in the direction of the diner with a heavy heart. Her employer had called her to tell her that the motorcycle she'd stolen belonged to one of their customers. She was officially out of a job-for now. She was sure there were at least six other places begging for her besides 'The Gentleman's Club' which, despite the name, didn't contain any gentlemen.

She was right about to make it to the parking lot, dressed in civvies now, when a dark green jeep screeched to a stop inches from her, it's owner swearing and running into his steering wheel from the force of the halt, very abruptly pushing the horn and scaring the crap out of both of them. The passenger of the car slapped his friend in the back of the head and frowned. Hitting the top of the car and swearing at them rudely, Selina smirked at his red-faced response before jogging back to the diner, keeping an eye on him as she approached Bart.

Speaking of which, the kid was getting paler, fidgeting uncomfortably in his seat and vibrating every so often with a pained expression. He'd obviously left the diner for at least a little while, she noted, because his conspicuously bright clothing for a white t-shirt and blue jeans, modest green eyes looking up at her as if waiting for her approval.

"What are you waiting for?" She asked him with a glare. "Show me the tracker." Obediently Bart retrieved a small metallic button from his pocket, dropping it in her waiting palm. She brought it closer to her face and observed it for a couple seconds before slipping it back to him and waving for a waiter. "Get whatever you need." She ordered, and the kid nodded.

"I'll have five burgers, six fries, two chocolate milk shakes, and some water." Bart told the waiter, who, with a nonplussed expression, diligently recorded the order. "Do you guys sell power bars?"

"Uh," The blonde waitress thought for a minute. "We might have a few in the back."

"Cool. I'll have those, too." He replied, and grinned childishly at her stunned face.

"I'll have fries and some water." Selina said. "You're Dinah, right?"

"Yep." Dinah grinned and leaned in. "Is one of those guys your boyfriend?" Selina stared at her for a minute before following the blonde's stare out the window. The two teenagers from the jeep were walking up to the diner, one scowling with his arms crossed and the other arguing loudly. They were both looking directly at her.

"No." Selina dismissed coldly. Taking the hint, Dinah skated away to greet the pair. Surprisingly enough, however, the second they walked in they pushed past the blonde and walked straight over to the table.

"Can I help you?" Selina asked, lips pursed and arms crossed. She leaned back in her chair and flipped one leg over the other, glaring at both of them.

"Ditch the attitude. We-" The driver of the jeep was elbowed harshly by his companion, "-I came here to say sorry." There was a very brief, awkward moment of silence before anyone else spoke.

"He means it." The driver's friend said bluntly, face void of emotion. Selina shrugged.

"Next time watch where you're going." She replied stubbornly, glancing over at Bart and noticing how the kid had gone even paler than before.

"Woah, kid, you alright?" Without asking, the driver sat down next to Bart and put a hand on his shoulder, turning the kid to face him. "You're looking pale."

While the driver continued to rail Bart with questions, the friend sat down next to Selina and gave her an apologetic stare. "I'm Bruce." He said simply, then nodded to the driver. "That's John."

"John is incredibly rude." Selina remarked loudly, but the dark-skinned driver didn't appear to hear her.

"He is." Bruce agreed, causing the thief to blink back her surprise. "He's probably not going to leave you alone for the rest of the evening. He came in here to offer to pay for your dinner." Selina doubted it was John's idea, but shrugged anyways.

"He didn't hit me." She remarked.

"He could have." Bruce replied evenly, then turned to face the other side of the table as though that settled things. Bart had finally began responding to John's incessant check-up, pushing himself into the corner of the seat with wide eyes.

"What's wrong?" Selina asked the kid, eyes dull. She was still exhausted from searching for Oliver, and didn't have time to beat around the bush-even if there were other people around. With metas, you could never be too sure when something was going to blow up. She preferred to know about things like that beforehand.

"I-" Bart turned to John. "I was the one who called you. I know who you really are."

* * *

"I'm just saying, if he's a superhero, he should have superpowers." Tommy said as he washed the dishes. "It's, like, a rule or something."

"Yeah?" Teddy snorted, taking a clean plate from Billy and putting it away. "We aren't superheroes, but we have powers."

_"That's exactly my point!" _Tommy exclaimed, dramatically tossing a dish in the air. Without thinking, Billy threw out his palm; across the kitchen, the dish hovered midair before floating into Teddy's waiting hands. "See! We'd kick ass!"

"We're in high school, Tommy." Billy sighed as Tommy threw another plate like a frisbee, grinning like crazy as Teddy caught it perfectly. "Besides, what if people found out our real identities? Not even Clark knows about them."

"About what?" Tommy threw another plate and this time, Clark caught it. He walked into the room with a curious expression on his face. "What don't I know about?"

"Billy and Teddy are going out." Tommy offered nonchalantly, ignoring the couple's looks of terror as their gazes remained stuck on Clark.

"Did you just out us?" Billy asked, riddled with shock.

"Dude, not cool!" Teddy exclaimed in horror, but Clark looked back at the white-haired teen with an equal amount of calmness.

"I already knew that." He said, biting back a grin.

"See?" Tommy told his friends. "That wasn't so hard, now, was it?_" _

_"_But-" Billy began, but Teddy sighed and shook his head. Clark laughed loudly and put the plate away.

"So," Teddy began, changing the subject. "What's up with-GA? Is that what you called him?"

"Green Arrow." Clark confirmed. "I...I don't know, honestly. I just found him outside of my doorstep. He was pretty banged up."

"Well, yeah. This _is _Smallville." Tommy snorted. "What's a normal day for us, huh? Robots in the morning and aliens just before lunch?"

"Hey, wait." Billy said, before pointing to the tiny television planted between old cooking magazines on the shelves above the sink. He grabbed the remote and turned up the volume, and four pairs of eyes watched it in interest.

_"Recently two paintings have been stolen from The Modern Art Museum. So far, there have been no witnesses." _A ginger man in his twenties reported dutifully, the backdrop a green screen of the museum. _"However, a couple report seeing two vigilantes making their way away from the area with a large object."_

"Doesn't that mean there _were_ witnesses?" Tommy interrupted.

"Shh." Billy reprimanded.

_"These vigilantes go by the names Catwoman and Green Arrow, and claim to-" _Billy turned off the volume with a bewildered look on his face, and the rest of the people in the kitchen turned to face Clark.

"Well," Tommy said. "This is awkward."


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the late chapter! D: My computer broke down, and then my roommate changed the password to my iPhone and forgot it so I couldn't use that either...on a better note, I'll finally be able to update more because summer's only 40 days away! Just have to get through finals week...**

**Anyways, I'm focusing more on the Oliver/Clark part of the plot here :) Hope you like it!**

**XXX,**

** Eve**

* * *

Oliver needed to leave.

He _needed to leave. _Already, he could feel something in his gut telling him that being here was a bad idea. So, ignoring the pain in his back and head, he sat up. His legs dangled over the side of the bed, and he had to keep his mind off of just how _weird _this entire situation was. Something wasn't adding up in his head, and Clark was at the center of it all._  
_

He stood up unsteadily and used the beam as support to walk over to the ladder. Lowering himself down it, he began to hear voices.

"You can't keep him here, Clark. It's dangerous." _Teddy._

"You don't get to decide that. He's just as old as we are. He's not a serial killer." Clark retorted. "I think it's time you guys head out."

"But-" Teddy began. Oliver could hear them begin to open the door to the barn. Hell, he could _see _the door. His muscles tensed as he prepared to jump down to the ground and make a break for it. But at the last second, he hesitated. The door remained closed as Teddy and Clark argued, and Oliver didn't want to risk making his injuries worse than they already were if he didn't need to.

"Teddy." _Billy. _"It's okay. Let Clark handle this."

With an awkward cough from Clark and a "whipped!" from Tommy, Clark opened the door. In the background, Tommy, Billy and Teddy could be seen retreating.

With a burst of acrobatic skill, Oliver pushed himself off of the ladder, grunting in pain as his feet hit the ground. His knees buckled a little underneath him and he stumbled over to the wall, eyes not leaving the door. His hands groped the top of the dresser next to him for something sharp. He felt his heart beat quickly, flapping painfully around in his chest like an angry bird.

"Woah!" Clark exclaimed, eyes widening at the sight. "You shouldn't be up y-" As he spoke, he took a step forward. Oliver's fingers closed around a pair of sewing scissors and held them in front of his chest like a dagger, pressing himself against the wall. Clark cut off the end of his sentence, looking worried. "Hey, hey," He said, lowering himself so they could see eye-to-eye and motioning his hands in the epitome of surrender. Oliver felt like a cornered animal. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

Oliver didn't move. He felt his muscles contracting, and swallowed loudly. His head felt like it was on _fire_.

He didn't even see Clark move. Suddenly, though, the brunette was only a few feet away, close enough to grab him. Before he could, Oliver moved forward with the scissors-

-and missed at the last second. Silence rang through the barn. Oliver felt his hands tremble as he realized what he'd almost done. _He'd almost attacked a civilian. _His eyes watered slightly, and he forced himself to drop the scissors. And then, he waited for the inevitable. The punch in the face, or knee in the stomach. Whatever Clark wanted to do, Oliver would endure it. He could've killed Clark, and he deserved whatever punishment the high schooler wanted to dish out. After all, living alone for years both on the streets and off showed Oliver that getting all of the anger out of the way was ten times better than having someone hold a grudge-even if they didn't know who the grudge was against.

Oliver flinched as he felt arms wrap around him. Clark was _hugging _him, and something about that tore Oliver up inside. He tried to pull away, move, but the brunette held on tightly and allowed no room for escape.

"Shh," Clark hummed quietly, rubbing Oliver's back comfortingly, and the brunette was left a little stunned.

The blond continued to twist around in the other's hold, and Clark was forced to hook one arm around his waist and use one hand to keep Ollie's head pinned to his chest. "No," Oliver whispered hoarsely. "No. J-just hit me already! Punch me, kick me! Fuck, do something! _I could have killed you!_" The guilt was welling up inside of him and it hurt like hell. _What's happening to me? _He felt the arms around him tense. Clark pulled away, horror dawning over his expression._  
_

"What's wrong with your head?" There was a distant sense of disgust in his eyes as he pulled his hand away from the blond's skull. Clots of blood came with it, and Oliver's stomach tumbled and twisted painfully. "There wasn't blood here before."

"That's not the-" Oliver began, trying to make it clear exactly what could have happened if he hadn't missed stabbing Clark, but was strictly cut off.

"Are you bleeding anywhere else that I didn't get?" The blond in front of him asked, beginning to analyze Oliver's physique critically. "I didn't see anything else..." He shook his head and sighed to reach for Oliver's forearm, grabbing it and squeezing comfortingly. Oliver flinched as pain shot up his arm, which was still sore from being bruised. Both pairs of eyes shot down to the ligament and froze.

"Wait..." Clark paused before adjusting his fingers to the hand-shaped bruise adorning Oliver's forearm. "...what the hell?" He whispered. Oliver was frozen in horror as he watched the blond move his fingers around until the bruise pattern fit his hand perfectly. Understanding dawned in his eyes, and he let go like his hand was burned. "Oliver?!"

Oliver didn't care if he had his gear or not, ignoring the pain ripping through his body. Without pausing he stood up and bolted out the door, too afraid to look back.


	8. Chapter 8

**Finally, I got another chapter around 3,000 words together! :D now that school's nearly over I'm finding a lot of time on my hands, so I'll definitely be updating at least twice a month!**

**Please ignore the location differences :P I have absolutely no idea how far/close Star City and Smallville actually are to each other.**

**XXX,**

** Eve**

* * *

Oliver ran faster than he thought was possible. Behind him, Clark's yelling faded into the distance. Trees and countryside turned into a highway which melted into a rugged town. Collapsing halfway past the grocery store in pain, he ignored the strange looks from the civilians and dragged himself, mask off, to a phone booth.

Selina answered on the first ring. In the background, he could hear two people-a kid and a guy-yelling at each other.

"Oliver?" She asked worriedly. "Is that you? Are you in a safe location? Your tracker hasn't moved."

He scratched the back of his head and winced when his fingers made contact with blood. "Yeah...I'm kind of not..." He paused, trying to figure out how to put it. "I had to ditch the gear back a while ago." He tugged uncomfortably at his boxers, striped red white and blue, wishing he had a jacket as goosebumps dotted his skin.

"I'm coming to pick you up." Selina replied without missing a beat. Oliver felt relief flood his system; they were close enough where they didn't have to feel guilty about it, but he still felt uncomfortable asking her for too many favors. Even if he would've done the same for her in a heartbeat.

"Thanks. I'm in-" He leaned out of the booth to check the street. "Uh, Star City. In front of the grocery store."

"On my way." Selina said before hanging up. Oliver sighed and let himself sink to a sitting position, pressing his forehead against his knees and groaning in pain and frustration. _I never should have hesitated. _He criticized. _I should have just left when I had the chance. Now I'll have to move. _He wondered if he could avoid the government system, if he could still keep in touch with Selina or Lonnie.

"Looks like someone's having a rough day." A sarcastic voice made Oliver look up. A man, probably 20 or so, with dark brown hair and tan skin had opened the door of the phone booth and was leaning in the doorway with his arms crossing, smirking down at the disheveled hero. He had stubble, and expensive ray bans shielded his eyes from the noon sun.

"Fuck off." Oliver muttered, in no mood to deal with a narcissistic rich kid, but the guy wasn't having it. He grabbed Oliver by the arm and pulled him to his feet, dragging him out of the box and onto the nearest public bench. The streets around them were now practically deserted, with no cars or people in sight. A breeze wafted through the town, but it was lazy and didn't do anything to cool them off.

"So. As a changed man," The guy began, "I, Tony, will listen to you complain about this," He waved his hand in Oliver's general vicinity, "For as long as you want. Don't be boring."

"Do you not know what fuck off means?" Oliver asked blandly. Tony just snorted and leaned back, crossing his arms stubbornly. "Fine. A...friend of mine found out something that I didn't want them to, and now I have to move."

"Must be a big secret." Tony grinned, looking like he was plotting something. Oliver scooted away from him on the bench until the rail hit him in the side.

"You have no idea." He muttered, before sighing.

"Why move?"

"Because the secret isn't exactly..."

"-Legal." Tony finished for him. "Okay, I see your point. But who says he'll say anything?"

Tony was asking surprisingly intuitive questions, and it was beginning to irk Oliver. "Because. This kind of secret isn't exactly something that a person can just...keep to themselves after knowing it." He struggled for words. "Especially since I don't know him very well. What makes him different from if I told a stranger? He won't think about what would happen if he told everyone about it."

"I'm going to tell you something right now that you may not want to hear." Tony replied after a minute of thought. "There are a lot of people that are going to shit on you." Oliver made to get up off of the bench, but Tony shook his head and pulled him back. "Let me finish. There are a lot of people that are going to take the first chance they get to kill whatever good things you have in life. To _end_ your life." He absentmindedly brushed his hand over the middle of his chest, which was covered by a black sabbath shirt. "But there are a hell of a lot more people that are good. And yeah, you may not run into them a lot in life. But wouldn't you rather take the leap of faith and trust one of them then miss out on knowing them at all? Give whoever you're talking about a chance to prove themselves." Oliver shot him a withering look. "Fine, fine. If that's asking too much, at least stick around for a day or two. I'm assuming they haven't told anyone your secret yet-wait and see if they do. Everybody deserves to be trusted."

"Yeah?" Oliver asked, biting his lip. He couldn't decide if he would be crazy for asking a stranger for advice or stupid for listening actually listening to it.

"Yeah." Tony said, before standing up. "Well, there goes my kindness for the day. I'm out. You want to someone to freak out, go scare the neighborhood kids. You look like a murder victim from Friday the Thirteenth." He began to walk away before pausing and turning back. "And really? Red white and blue? What are you, Captain America?" Laughing, he got onto a motorcycle and drove away.

* * *

Clark felt numb. He didn't know what to do; shock kept him rooted to the floor. He watched Oliver slowly fade into the distance from his doorway. He didn't know how long he stayed rooted to that spot, but when he finally snapped back to reality, the sun was past noon.

_At least I can help him now. _Clark struggled to find the positive side of the situation. _If he'll even let me. _He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before walking to the kitchen and grabbing a box of crackers. Climbing up to his loft and sitting on his bed, he set the box next to him and leaned down to pull a wooden crate out from under the bed. Inside, Gre-Oliver's GA costume and bow and arrows were neatly packed. Opening the crackers and munching quietly, his mind fell into journalism mode as he lifted the antihero's clothing and weapons.

There were multiple tears and blood splatters in the clothing, and the arrows were worn and chipped. It was obvious that Oliver had been doing this for a while. The real question was _why_. What could push someone so young to turn to such violent acts of heroism? What was it that Oliver thought he was protecting? Why were his parents letting him get away with this?

He thought back to Oliver's earlier statement, when he'd been asked about his loved ones. _I don't have to worry about that. _Memories resurfaced of when he'd caught Gr-Oliver and Catwoman at the museum. Oliver hadn't cared what happened to him, instead devoting his attention to properly removing the framework to maintain the state of the artwork.

_Crap. _What was he going to do if Oliver found out about superman now? It would ruin what little could be salvaged of their friendship, not to mention it would be detrimental to Oliver's obvious trust issues.

_No. _Clark calmed himself. _No negative thoughts. Just...focus. _He tried to clear away the worry and stress from his mind, and was surprised at the result. Bordering the edges of his consciousness was the primal instinct to protect and hold. Specifically, Oliver.

"It's obvious I won't be able to get any sleep until I see him." Clark decided aloud, and remembered that he still had Oliver's GA uniform and weapons. Which meant that wherever Oliver had run to, he was wearing next to nothing. Grimacing a little and hoping that he'd be able to find the blond, he loaded the box full of arrows and kevlar under his arm and grabbed his first aid kit (just in case), and walked outside to load his truck. _With any luck, I'll find him quickly. _

* * *

This was so the opposite of what Selina had planned. But all in all, she couldn't protest. She'd driven a lot of cars-expensive to cheap-but somehow, the rumble of life coming from the jeep's engine was pleasant, and overall it drove smoothly over the asphalt. It was one-thirty, and she still hadn't eaten anything. Then there was Bart, who was beginning to look like a patient from House as he became paler than what Selina thought was possible. On either side of the kid, who sat in the back, was Bruce and John, who interrogated him. Because apparently, Bart had figured out that John was the Green Lantern.

Whoever the hell that was. Selina sighed and stepped a little harder on the accelerator, smirking confidently as the speed shifted the car forward and the scenery whipped by them.

"Kid," John growled assertively. "I'm only going to ask you this one more time, do you actually-"

"Did you see that?" Bruce interrupted. Selina slowed the car into a stop, unafraid of the fact she was in an intersection because of the lack of cars and people around them. They were two miles away from Star City.

"See what?" She asked gruffly, looking in the rearview mirror before finally spotting it.

Adrenaline pushed through her system when she caught sight of the man. He was roughly forty meters from the car, at least six and a half feet tall, with blond hair down to his shoulders. Decked out in full out armor with muscles the size of her head, he swung a hammer around in the air like a baton before catching it and laughing.

"...is that normal for this time?" Bart asked, twisting around in his seat to get a better look. "I mean, like, we get our fair share of weird people where I'm from but this is just..." He struggled to find a word.

"Bizarre." John finished for him, squinting at the figure. All three men started as Selina ignored it, slamming down on the accelerator without warning.

"Ignore him, and he'll ignore you." She ordered, and saw Bruce hide a smirk before turning back to Bart. "Bart. Kid. Whoever you a-"

"Bart Allen. But you can just call me Bart." The kid grinned in all of his pale glory.

"Whatever." She deadpanned. "Who is Green Lantern?"

John froze up, staring at her openly with a shocked expression. Bart replied automatically. "He was only, like, half the reason why Michigan didn't explode." Bart paused to reach into the side compartment and shove a power bar down his throat. Swallowing it after a few chews, he ignored the disgusted looks and kept going. "He was a superhero."

"Was?" Bruce inquired. Bart stared back at them with wide eyes before shaking his head.

"Uh, oops. Spoilers. Sorry." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly before changing the subject. "So...does that mean you don't know who Catwoman is?" He was talking to John, but Bruce was the one to answer, his eyes boring holes into the back of Selina's head as he spoke.

"Catwoman is a dangerous thief, as is her accomplice Green Arrow." He said with narrowed eyes. "Eventually they will be brought to justice."

"Oh, lighten up." John snorted, and for a man whose secret had just been revealed, he was startlingly calm.

"So why aren't you afraid I'll tell anyone your identity?" Selina finally asked, watching him shift his attention to her. He was relaxed in stance, one arm resting on the back seat behind Bart, the other lazily propped up in the windowsill.

"Neither of you seem like bad people." He replied simply. "I'm not worried about that, I'm worried about how he-" He jerked a thumb towards Bart- "Figured it out."

"Uh...I guess you could say I saw you transform. Er, you know, do the oath thing. Whatever you wanna call it." Bart said.

"How did you get his phone number?" Bruce asked, and Bart shrugged.

"I kinda just asked the woman that answered the door. Told her he was helping me study. But that's not why I..." He paused to inhale loudly. "I need your help. The help of a _superhero_, not just some officer."

John looked at him in the eyes, trying to decide if the kid was telling the truth or not. Hell, Selina was still trying to figure out whether he was telling the truth.

"Okay." The older teen replied. "Shoot."

"I'm looking for someone who lost their memories. A...well, I guess he's maybe like fifteen now?" Bart fidgeted uncomfortably.

"...and you need my help why?" John asked. "No offense kid, but that's not the kind of work I specialize in."

"He'snotactuallyfromhereexactly-" The meta visibly calmed himself, hands clenching into tight fists. He looked through bright green eyes down at his shoes. "He's not from this dimension."

Tension filled the car, and Selina jumped as John let out a barking laugh. "Do you really expect me to believe that?" He snorted. "Nice try, but I'm not an idiot. A bad driver, maybe, but not an idiot."

"But-" Bart tried.

"Sorry, kiddo." Selina cut in smoothly, eyes watching the neon-lit sign _Welcome to Star City _carefully. "I'm going to have to agree. You're going to have to come up with a better excuse than that." She noticed that Bruce made a point not to say anything, frowning a little as they caught eyes. "Thanks for letting me use your car."

"Any time." John shrugged, leaving a lost and irritable Bart to sulk in the back.

They pulled into a virtually empty town. A giant dust cluster could have rolled over the road and Selina wouldn't have been surprised if no one noticed. The only other vehicle on the road was a sleek motorcycle, the rider a brown-haired man with a cocky smirk who had pulled over to talk to a blond.

Two blocks later they found Oliver. Sitting on a bench and looking miserable, he glared at the jeep disdainfully before noticing Selina in the drivers seat and standing up and sauntering over to the passenger side and sliding it. Looking back at their three additional passengers he raised an eyebrow. "Who're they?" He muttered quietly, trying to ignore the fact that all conversation had ceased and he was now being intently watched.

"Two metas and a human." Selina replied, rolling away the second he was buckled. "Nice boxers."

He snorted. "Yeah, well, not my fault the rest are in tatters." He said with a snort.

"How many half-dead people do you know?!" John asked incredulously, and she shrugged in response.

"Not half dead." Oliver mumbled. "Where are we going?"

"My place." She said. "Why do you keep getting in bar fights?"

"What?" He looked confused for a minute before catching on and laughing awkwardly. "Oh. Right, yeah, sorry. Can't really remember what happened last night." Bruce's eyes narrowed but he didn't say anything. Selina took in a deep breath, letting it out quietly.

It was going to be a long drive.

* * *

"Thanks for the snacks, mom!" Roy laughed a little as he bounced up the stairs to his room, flinging the door open excitedly and running over to the computer on his desk, turning it on. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he typed in the URL for youtube and began researching. "Green..." He muttered aloud. "...Arrow." He hit search and clicked on the first video to pop up. It was his favorite. It was the one that he'd uploaded himself.

It was only a couple days old. He'd mainly uploaded it to show to his online friends Richard and Wally, but it had gone viral overnight. _This is who Green Arrow really is... _He thought. The hero reminded him of Oliver a little, because he acted like a bad guy but was actually good.

He'd been walking home when it happened. A couple seniors from Smallville High had attacked him on the side of the road. He'd closed his eyes and prepared himself for a punch, but it never came-instead, Green Arrow stood before him, smirking as he held onto the thug's fist.

Just his appearance had been enough to scare the guys off. Then there was the coolest part-right after Green Arrow saved him, he turned to the camera and said, "Stay safe, kid." Before slinking into the shadows and vanishing. He was just _so cool! _Roy wanted to be just like him when he grew older.

Something about the voice, though, was a little familiar. Roy stared at the computer screen with squinted eyes, before they widened to the size of saucers. His mouth fell open, and he replayed the video just to be sure.

A speech bubble popped up from Richard in a private message. _"Hey! What's up?" _

Roy hesitated before biting his lip nervously and replying, _"I think I know who Green Arrow is."_


	9. Chapter 9

**So...I know that after Jon Kent told Clark that they weren't actually related Clark left and became superman, but here I have it where Clark has his powers and is superman and everything, but he still lives with the Kents (it works better seeing as Clark attends high school & needs parents/guardians by state law etc etc.)**

**BTW I'm using Bart from YJ, not from Smallville (just in case anybody was confused).**

**XXX,**

** Eve**

* * *

Clark searched manually for two hours before finally changing into his Superman costume. He flew to a rooftop and took in a breath of fresh air in the mindset of thinking clearly, closing his eyes and letting his instincts keep him balanced. He remembered the time when he found Oliver asleep in the library and focused on the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat in an attempt to seek the boy out.

His brain hurt the second he used the superhearing. Sounds from nearby traffic jams, people yelling at each other, kids screaming...overwhelmed, Clark wobbled and dropped into a crouch to keep himself from falling. The wind howled around him, and he used a surge of confidence to push his hearing range even farther.

"Agh!" He yelled in pain, eyes squeezing shut. _Where was Oliver? What if he's dead? What if he got attacked, or mugged?! What if he wouldn't talk to him anymore? _Questions filled the small portion of his brain lacking the abundance of noise and he vaguely realized that his ears were bleeding a little bit.

_Thump. Thump. Thump_.

Clark felt the pain go away.

_Thump. Thump_.

He sighed in peace, letting the beat take hold of him, dropping out of his crouch to sit down on the cold rooftop in a moment of complete perfection. The noises he had found so painful before faded away, the doubts in his mind disappearing as quickly as they had arrived. And for every minute Clark felt so calm and safe, he wanted to return to the blond who had given it to him tenfold. He wanted to show Oliver that he could rely on Clark, that no one else would find out his secret. That there were people who cared about him and his wellbeing and wanted him to be safe and happy and content, just like Clark felt when he was close to the archer.

_I'm coming. _He thought to himself. Then, moving to kneel on the roof, he looked down at the frosty surface and pressed his closed fist against it. With a resounding sound not unlike a sonic boom, he shot into the air with determination and courage.

* * *

Bart felt sick.

Bart felt _really sick._ He needed to _eat_ something before his body went into shock. Eyes wide, he looked between John and Bruce.

So, he only kind of slightly knew what was happening in the car. He knew that, from what his Batman had told him, this wasn't supposed to be happening. Selina and Bruce were supposed to meet later, when Selina was under the alias as Mrs. Peggs. And wasn't Oliver supposed to be, like, older? _What's even happening in this universe? _He wondered to himself, looking outside the window. _Star City looks so different. And that guy in the road was totally **not **human!_

But more than anything, Bart was worried. The men in the suits had known he was coming-or at least, the scientist had. He didn't know how long he'd been stuck in that ugly place being tested on, he couldn't even remember most of the tests. He just wanted to find Jamie, maybe take a look at what all the sidekicks looked like when they were younger (Rob, Uncle Wally, and Roy never showed him any pictures) and then go home.

But if he went back now without figuring out what was going on _now_, Batman would **kill** him. Plus, Bart kind of wanted to see what the bat was like as a teenager. And the rest of the heroes-if Clark and Oliver really _were_ enemies like they'd seemed to be in the alleyway that night, or if they just didn't know each other's identities.

John nudged him in the shoulder a little. "What're you thinking about?"

Bart pouted, crossing his arms and looking stubbornly out the window. Out of all of them, he'd really been counting on John's help with finding Jamie. He knew his-universe-John; he was kind, and strong, and smart enough to solve his own problems. He was the kind of person with his moral compass pointing directly north. It kind of stung to be called a liar by one of the few people who allowed themselves to be idolized in the JLA.

"Oh, c'mon. Is this about that whole 'missing person' thing? Even you have to admit that's crazy." John laughed, but twitched reflexively when Oliver visibly tensed up, twisting in his seat to glare at Bart.

"Don't spread stories like that." He said coldly, then turned back to face the front.

"Not a story." Bart muttered under his breath. "If any of you would actually _listen _to me you'd know that already."

"Okay, okay," John eased the tension with his good nature. "So who's the missing kid?"

"Jamie. He's my-" He paused, considering how to finish his sentence carefully. "Friend, I guess. In _my _universe, there's still, like, all of you." He pointed to them. "But...older, kind of. And nicer. And you're all part of the JLA-well, except maybe Ca-Selina." He caught eyes with a suspicious-looking Bruce and immediately moved his gaze back to the front windshield.

"JLA?" John asked calmingly.

"Justice League of America." Bart rambled. "It's basically like this who group of superheroes who get together and fight crime and stuff. And a couple of the sidekicks-like the young ones, not the adults-got together and made Young Justice. And then I came in this time machine a while after it formed for, uh, tourist purposes, and basically joined up until I fix the time machine. But we were fighting this new villain-dunno what his name is, but he's like weird and pale and has this greasy long black hair-and there was this flash of light and suddenly we were here."

"Then where's the rest of your team?" Bruce asked, and Bart sighed.

"That's the problem. Megan-she's an alien, it's so cool-she has this like telepathic link thingy that she put up in our minds before the whole universe-changing problem. So she tried to find all of us, but for some reason Jamie was out of range or hit his head or something because no matter how hard we tried we couldn't reach him. So then Ti-Robin, our leader, made this thing that'll take us back and he took everybody else to go beat the villain while I stay here and find Jamie."

"And you're getting back to, uh, 'your' dimension how...?" John wondered. Bart took in another deep breath and kept talking.

"The machine. It wasn't destroyed when they left, it kind of just...kept being here and there at the same time. But it's gonna keep pulling stuff from other universes until someone destroys it."

"So...your team built a dimension-travelling machine, left you to find Jamie, and now that machine could pull anyone from any universe. And you're going to _leave it there_ until you find him." Oliver looked so beyond pissed. Bart almost replied, almost tried to redeem himself at least a little bit, when Selina slamming on the brakes a second time.

"This is our stop." She said shortly as Oliver began getting out of the car. Bart made to get out as well but Bruce grabbed onto his arm determinedly.

"No." He growled. "You're coming with us."

Bart looked up at Selina for help, but she just shrugged and got out of the drivers seat, allowing John to settle back into his previous seat. They'd pulled over in the middle of nowhere-not even a gas station could be found. Bart watched in interest as Oliver pulled Selina over to the back of the car and began speaking in a hushed voice.

"Selina, I don't need to be home right now. You know I can get back without your help." The blond stated bluntly. Bart glanced up as the muscles in Bruce's legs twitched; he was straining to listen, too.

"I don't care. You called me and asked me to pick you up. You disappeared without a word, Ollie."

"Don't _mother _me, Selina. You know I don't need the help of someone who doesn't even have their _own _life together." The silence became thick as John kept the car stationary, now also drawn into the conversation. His lips curved into a frown.

"Fine." Selina replied emotionlessly. "You're on your own tonight, GA. Don't expect any help from me." In one fluid motion she walked back around and got into shotgun. "Go. He has another ride." She ordered frostily, crossing her arms.

"What town do you live in?" John asked.

"Just drop me off in Smallville." She answered, then proceeded to stare out the window for the next twenty minutes in an angry silence.

* * *

Clark felt a burst of strength rush through his body as he flew. The wind around him stirred and churned, and the sky was clear and bright. The only thing he could hear in his mind was the steady, constant beat of Oliver's heart, and focusing on it only added drive to his cause; the infinite motivation he held to help the vigilante, to heal him, to keep him safe.

The noise drew closer, accelerating slightly, and Clark frowned and wondered what was happening. He'd only ever heard a heartbeat that fast when someone was extremely stressed or angry.

_No wonder_, he thought to himself bitterly. _If he's been going out at night as GA, and I've been making him go to school... _He remembered how Oliver had fallen asleep in the library, how peaceful and_ tired _he'd looked, surrounded by medical textbooks that were probably being read so the archer knew how to patch himself up, not because he wanted to know how to be a doctor.

The clues, the signs had all been there, and Clark had been too stupid to see them. He should have known the second he met GA in the alleyway, should have been able to tell when Oliver failed to panic after Clark nearly burned his arm in the science lab. Should have.

His clenched fists tightened ever-so-slightly as a figure came into view. Clark slowed down and dropped to the ground so as to not startle the teen, who was roughly forty meters away. Even through the distance Oliver heard him coming and whipped around, uncertainty clear in his eyes. Clark reminded himself that he was in the suit, that Ollie wouldn't recognize him, and bit down the primal instinct to embrace the blond. Instead, they both remained at equal composure.

"So I'm guessing you know who I am." Oliver broke the heavy silence. His voice wavered slightly, but his posture remained strong and confident. He forcibly laughed. "What're you going to do now, take me in? I'm a kid. They'd never believe you, even if you are Superman."

"Why are you doing this?" Clark asked softly. "You know I'd never let anyone harm Smallville, let alone it's citizens." He approached the archer a little more, eyelids fluttering as he nearly lost himself to the comforting sound of Oliver's heartbeat.

"Because sometimes it's the citizens you need to protect Smallville from." Oliver replied warily, stepping back as Clark got within a twenty foot radius. "The Luthors are number one on that list. Would you still protect them? What have they done to deserve that?"

"They may not be...good," Clark chose his words carefully, still attempting weakly to close the distance between them. "But that doesn't mean they deserve to die. I would protect any person I could, given the chance, no matter what they've done."

"No matter what?" Oliver asked venomously. "You'd save a murderer? A rapist? Me?"

"You?" Clark exclaimed in disbelief. "Don't exaggerate, you may steal but I've seen you do good. You _are _good-"

"Yet policemen still aim their guns at me when they see me, and, from the last time we spoke, that makes me a bad person. Would you still save me, even when the people around me wouldn't? Do you think they would still treat you like a hero? Because trust me, they wouldn't." Oliver addressed every insecurity, every catch in Clark's confidence. "You say you act in justice and the greater good, but the people that you save would disagree. They see you as a hero now not because they trust you, but because they see no other option. If they were able to develop a gun capable of killing you, can you honestly tell me that they wouldn't hesitate to shoot? Men are fearful creatures, Superman, and given the chance, they'll kill you in cold blood. But you still abide by their laws. You still walk among us like an average person. I understand that-hell, I respect it! But don't tell me for a _god damned minute _that I can't clean up the messes our 'fellow citizens' are making and then threaten to turn me in to those hypocritical _bastards_. You _chose_ to follow the men preparing your death. Don't force me to do the same."

Clark felt shocked. This was the first time someone had managed to answer and not answer his question at the same time. He pitied the fact that Oliver had so little faith in the human race, that he managed to get by with no trust. He took the time to observe Oliver's stance-the archer had clenched his fists during the majority of his speech, looking down at the ground angrily as if the sight of Clark's face pissed him off. No; not his face, but what he stood for: the law.

He couldn't take it anymore. Giving in to instinct, he walked past Oliver's space bubble and wrapped his arms around the blond, embracing him gently. He felt Oliver freeze in both fear and distrust before struggling and, just like in the barn, Clark only tightened his grip.

"I won't hurt you." He stated. "I will _never _betray you."

"Just like how the government will never betray you?" Oliver snarled, trying and failing to put more distance between himself and the superhero.

"Sometimes, you have to make the decision to trust before you're given a reason to." Clark replied soothingly.

At those words, something in Oliver seemed to break. Instead of pushing and twisting away, he went limp. Clark gripped him tighter to keep them both standing, Oliver's hands trapped between their chests, and breathed in the teen's scent, basking in the noise of their hearts beating in unison.

He felt surprise take him as Oliver let out a quiet sob. Pulling away and holding the blond by his biceps, Clark frowned wearily. "What's wrong?"

"He knows." Oliver barely whispered and, if it weren't for his superhearing, Clark probably wouldn't have heard him. He waited for the teen to elaborate. "The guy whose barn you dropped me off at; Clark Kent. He knows. He'll tell everyone." He took a shuddering breath. "What would you do if the world knew who you were?"

Clark felt appalled. _He really thinks I'd tell someone? _He thought, frowning before giving the blond a warm smile and hugging him again, rubbing small circles on the bruised back. "He wouldn't do that." He comforted the teen, but still felt a little disoriented by the sudden mood swing. "I know Clark well. He wouldn't do something like that without hearing your side of the story first."

Oliver nodded slightly before stiffening. "Why are you doing this?" He asked in confusion, pulling away slightly. Distraught colored his eyes.

_Because I care about you. _"Because you're a person too, and you deserve to be treated like one."

"No," Oliver laughed hollowly, finally drawing away with a desperate, hurting look in his eyes. "You're wrong. I don't deserve anything."

"I don't understand? Tell me what's wrong?" Something faltered in Oliver's heartbeat, and it made Clark's pulse rise in fear. The inability to stay on track with the point of the conversation and the mood swings began to make sense again. "Did you not do anything about your head-!" Oliver wobbled slightly and Clark caught the archer in his arms carefully.

"Let me go...!" Oliver struggled weakly in Clark's grip as the alien prepared to take off, protesting quietly to being carried bridal-style. "Where're you taking me?!"

"Home." Clark replied.

* * *

Oliver felt dizzy. The wind swallowed up whatever pained noises he made, the strong arms under his knees and back keeping him awake. Anger and distrust motivated him to continue thinking; about keeping Selina an arms distance, at Clark's annoying almost-journalist qualities, about his own stupidity. But more than anything, he was incredibly _warm_. Heat radiated from beneath the fabric of Superman's suit and into Oliver, and he curled inward to greet it.

He _had_ to keep Selina away, he thought to himself. There were people at the diner, around town, who recognized them or knew them and how they were close. Once Clark told the world about his real identity, Oliver could name at least six different people who would be able to put two and two together and identify Selina as Catwoman. And Oliver couldn't let his mistake ruin her life. As long as they kept their distance, people would stop associating them as a pair and hopefully, she could keep going on as Catwoman.

He felt his eyes drifting shut, but another throttle forward on Superman's part jolted him awake and back into thought. He was reminded of what Tony had said, about waiting, about trusting. The man was right, Oliver _didn't _like the sound of waiting. He liked _leaving_. The government already set up bunk in his apartment, keeping that awkward man there. He didn't need Superman breathing down his neck and the police constantly looking for a reason to arrest him to boot. And why should he listen to some crazy stranger? For all he knew, Tony could be a serial killer.

And another thing-how did Superman know about his head wound? Oliver was ninety percent sure that Clark had been the one to patch him up. Sighing to himself, he just shook his head and muttered, "Whatever." He felt gravity pull them down to the ground, and saw only darkness as he lost himself to sleep wrapped in the comforting warmth.


	10. Chapter 10

**So...my friend finally read this and made me realize how slow the plot's moving. I. Am so. Sorry. No excuses. Shit's actually going to happen this chapter. **

**Thanks for reading (I swear it'll get better!). Don't be afraid to review and tell me how to improve!**

**XXX,**

** Eve**

* * *

_Star City_

"And you're sure this will be completely untraceable?" The man asked, and his lackey sighed.

"I built and tested it myself. The boy himself is completely unaware of it's potential."

"And once we have the power source...we will be able to control it." He smiled sinisterly. "Good. Now all we need is the boy."

* * *

Oliver woke up slowly. He still felt dizzy, but was strangely warm. It took him a couple seconds to realize that his apartment was never this warm, and he almost sat up. The key word being _almost_. Because, to his surprise, what felt like a hundred pound weight was strewn over his chest keeping him against the mattress.

At first he could have sworn that it was Clark's arm, but turning he saw that it was Superman, mask and all. He frowned, trying to push himself away, before everything became clear. The reason why Superman was so invested in helping him, how he knew about the head wound.

But he had to check. So, knowing the man of steel would hear him, he quietly asked, "Clark?"

His heart plummeted as Superman's eyes opened, still glossed over with sleep. "Yeah?"

Silence. Oliver looked around while Clark was still disoriented and realized that he was in the loft he'd woken up in previously. Light filled the room, illuminating the white sheets and Oliver's bruised skin. He felt the muscles in the arm over his chest tense before it was gone; Clark had sat up and stared at him, shocked and scared at the same time.

Oliver honestly didn't care any more. His head was still pounding, and he just wanted to sleep. But the look of fear on Clark's face motivated him to sit up as well. "Clark." The meta looked panicked and pale, and didn't move at all. "_Clark. _Calm down. I didn't know until now." He didn't know why he felt like comforting the meta; usually, he would have gone on a rampage, or flipped out of the window to safety. "Out of the two of us, shouldn't _I _be the one freaking out?"

That seemed to get through to Clark, who blinked before flashing him a worried look. "I..." His eyes trailed on the ground. "Does your head still hurt?"

"Well, someone _did_ hit me with a brick, so yeah, it still hurts." The blond replied sarcastically, before sighing. "Before you tell anyone who I am-"

"Woah, hey," Clark cut him off, wide-eyed. "I was never going to tell anyone."

"Oh really." Oliver laughed sourly, leaning back on his hands. "You're a _teenage kid_. Of course you're going to tell someone."

"No, I wasn't." Clark replied honestly, "I just wanted to see if you were okay. I was worried about you as Oliver and when I was Superman I was worried about you as Green Arrow; I just wanted to make sure you were safe...protected."

Oliver wondered if Clark was telling the truth. Something in the brunette's eyes just seemed so _trustable_, and it was really beginning to get to him. He felt his gut urging him to open up. After all, he wouldn't need to worry about hurting Clark. The guy was _Superman_-which was also why Oliver knew he probably wouldn't need to worry about Clark hurting him, either. He may not agree with the way Superman worked, but he did support the meta's moral code.

_It would be easier...not having to move. _He thought to himself. Smallville High was full of pretentious idiots, but there were a few people there that he liked. And he wanted to make sure that no one roughed up Roy-he'd been on his way home when he saw a couple guys cornering the kid in the alley. It was like he _attracted _danger.

"I..." Oliver took a deep breath. "I believe you. But Clark, you can't tell _anyone_."

"I know," Clark said. "But...why are you doing this? Why become Green Arrow?"

Oliver felt a rush of clarity. Clark knew his identity. Clark was Superman. For once, there was someone that Oliver could actually trust. "When I was little, my parents owned an art exhibit, and it got big enough for a couple major artists to put their art in it. Then one night a couple of people broke in and stole almost half of the paintings." Clark looked ready to console him but he held up a hand and continued. "A few weeks later I went to a new exhibit by myself, one of the ones in the bigger museums. It had all the paintings that were stolen on display. The museum had a lot of money, so no one did anything about it."

"So...Green Arrow stole the paintings back?" Clark asked, trying to coax the story out.

"No," Oliver replied bitterly. "Green Arrow's parents were killed in a car crash to keep the story quiet. And he ran for his life."

"Oliver..." Clark put a hand on Oliver's arm, searching his eyes and trying to comfort him. Oliver felt his eyes flutter shut, praying he wouldn't hear the obligatory _'I'm so sorry'_. It was meaningless, and he'd already gotten that speech from the emotionless government agent at his house. "That must've really sucked."

Oliver laughed loudly in relief at the change of words. "Yeah." He said breathlessly, not remembering to pull his arm out of Clark's grip. "It was. But I got through it." He was careful to avoid the words 'over it'. He would never be over his parents deaths, no matter how long ago they died. He sighed before changing the subject. "So...Superman, huh? How'd that happen?"

Clark seemed to tense, piquing Oliver's curiosity. The blond opened his eyes and stared out at the meta with gentle interest. Clark cleared his throat. "I...remember that meteor shower a while ago?" Oliver shrugged. He blandly remembered something that the government had called an 'astrological miracle', and that it had gotten him a night alone in the apartment. "That was actually a planet, Krypton, exploding. My parents were from there, they sent me here because they believed I could save Earth from the same fate."

Oliver felt a little odd, but more annoyed. "What fate?" He asked, wondering why Clark hadn't told anyone, contacted the FBI or something if there was a danger to national security. Oliver didn't like the government at all, but even he had to admit he wouldn't be able to handle something like that alone. Besides, nothing brings people together like a common enemy.

"Krypton's government was corrupt; they became their own downfall. They sent me down because they believed I could save mankind...from itself. To become the hero they needed to look up to, someone they could strive to be."

Oliver thought about it. It _did_ explain why Clark would be so adamant about following the laws-if he was seen as a criminal, it would go against everything he strove to become. And it also addressed why he was so concerned for Oliver's wellbeing, even though said blond was more commonly known as a thief. Even if it didn't explain the random long looks in his direction, or the ample usage of bodily contact. He'd been half-conscious in Clark's arms for time that totaled longer than the amount of time he'd spoken to him.

"So you're like...a role model for Earth?" Oliver asked eventually, still sorting through all the facts in his mind.

"Well, I never really thought about it like that." Clark said with a half-smile, before putting his other hand next to Oliver's hip on the bed and caging him in. "Seriously though, Oliver. This...this isn't safe. You could get _shot_. You could _die_." He searched Oliver's eyes for some semblance of understanding.

"I know that." Oliver snapped, looking everywhere but Clark's face. "But...if I don't do it, who will?"

"But no one _needs to do it_!" Clark exclaimed. "Oliver, no one _wants _you out there risking your _life_ just so you can steal paintings back! What would happen if you got hurt?! Would Catwoman be okay with that? How do you think the person who hurt you would feel when they found out how young you are?!"

"Just because I'm not saving lives directly like Superman doesn't mean I don't help people." Oliver snarled, now seeing the strategy in Clark's position. His arm hindered any sideways movement, and the hand on Oliver's arm kept the archer from pulling himself backwards and away. He felt both physically and verbally cornered. "You didn't see the look on the museum owner's face when he saw that his paintings had 'magically returned'. He was _crying_, Clark. The things these big corporations are stealing aren't people's possessions, it's their _lives_."

He could see the surprise on Clark's face, and wondered if he was just tired or normally that slow-minded. It would have been endearing, in an entirely different situation. He forcibly calmed himself down, telling himself in his mind repeatedly that, for the first time, he could _trust_ someone because they were virtually indestructible. It's not that Clark _wouldn't _die on him, it's that he physically _couldn't_.

"I...Sorry." Clark blanched, leaning in unconsciously to Oliver, who tried (and failed) to back up. "I didn't mean to downsize what you're doing, I just...I worry."

"But Clark," Oliver said. "I'm _not worth worrying about_." Clark's eyes widened in shock.

* * *

Clark couldn't believe Oliver had just said that. _At all_. He leaned in even more, looking earnestly into the blond's sharp green eyes. "Oliver, why would you even say that? Of course you're worth worrying about!" He frowned as Oliver squirmed.

"Look, Clark, it's okay." Oliver said. "My parents died _years_ ago. I get that I have to take care of myself. _I'm fine with it._" But they could both tell that he was lying.

"Oliver, you should _never_ have to be alone." Clark shot back. "You're amazing, and smart, and kind, and you try to change the world for the better. I've only known you for a short time and I can already see how impressive and great you are. I mean, do you know anyone else who's willing to sacrifice their own wellbeing for the sake of others? If I didn't have any powers, I would be _terrified_ to do what I do, and I'm _Superman_. You should never be alone." He swallowed loudly. "And as long as I'm here...you won't be."_  
_

He didn't clearly remember what happened next. Years later, explaining it to several of their close friends and comrades, he would say that it was chance that he didn't miss completely. He would say that he didn't even know what he was doing, and that he blanked on everything leading up to it.

Because seconds later, Clark did something he never imagined he'd do. He let the comforting sound of Oliver's heartbeat finally entrance him, leaned forward, and kissed Oliver Queen.


	11. Chapter 11

**Just to make things clear, when I talk about Nightwing and Impulse, imagine the costumes from Young Justice: Invasion. When I talk about Batman or GL, I'm using the costumes from Justice League. GA's costume was already described, and I'm using the Superman costume from Man of Steel. **

**Storytime: so I went to Disneyland for a couple of days and while I was walking out I ran into some random guy dressed up as Impulse, and weirdly enough he looked _exactly like him_. Anyways, so he _ran into me_. Literally. I wasn't watching where I was going, and apparently neither was he, and he ran straight into me and nearly knocked both of us over. I never did find out why he was dressed like a superhero running around, but it did occur to me that he runs pretty fast.**

**BTW the next day I saw Selina Gomez and the day after that I saw the guy from Baby Daddy :D**

**Soo...yeah. :P**

**XXX,**

** Eve**

* * *

_John's Car_

"H-hey, where are you taking me?" Bart asked. He'd tried to ignore it, but the lack of food in his system was beginning to make his hands shake a little. They'd dropped Selina off in the heart of Smallville, but surprisingly enough, they hadn't left the city yet.

"Bruce has a hunch." John replied, and Bart looked between them with wide eyes. _Does this universe's GL have telepathy? _He looked to Bruce curiously. He didn't have time to check to see where Bruce was in his timeline; if his parents were dead here, if he was Batman yet. "About you."

Well if that wasn't a cause for concern, Bart didn't know what was.

"About me?" He asked, ignoring the whimper-like tremor to his voice as he spoke.

"You said you were looking for a boy, possibly with memory loss." Bruce said. "I know someone who fits that description."

He shared a look with John, but the meaning was lost on Bart. The teen sighed and sunk deep into the cushions. He'd never gone this long without eating before-two days was a long time for a _normal person, _for him it felt like a millennia. He felt his legs buzzing and narrowly avoided phasing through the bottom of the car, and decided it was time to speak up.

"Ineedfood." He said, and got two incredulous stares. Swallowing loudly, he slowed down. "I-I need food."

"Why didn't you say so?" John snorted at what he probably assumed were childish antics. "There's a couple power bars in the glove b-" Bart didn't wait for him to finish his sentence, moving faster than either man could see and shoving himself over the passenger seat to the compartment, slamming it open and grabbing the bars. He was back in his seat before they could blink, inhaling the food like a madman. "Woah, kid, are you a-"

"-meta." Bruce said, eyes narrowing. "Looks like super speed."

"Hyper metabolism _would_ explain that." He jerked his thumb back with a hint of a smirk at Bart, who had inhaled the food and then curled up against the window seat and passed out. "Do you think he's doing that to preserve energy or something?"

Bruce shook his head. "If he hasn't had sugar for a long period of time, with a quick metabolism he probably shocked his system. It's common for people who fast over long periods of time."

"So...I'm guessing we aren't going get to tell him about Nightwing, then?"

* * *

_Star City_

"You _will _tell us where he is." The man cackled. "You have proved yourself worthy of liberation from my control, but I have far superior..._motivations. _You will wish you had never been born, and you _will _tell me what I wish to know."

"I don't sell out my friends." The dark-haired teen snarled back, chained to the wall. "Besides, you brought _Nightwing_ here. Do you even know who he is? He'll stop you, no problemo. The guy's a ninja."

"I do not know of the man whom which you speak." Hissed the figure cloaked in darkness, as he stalked the edges of the room and glared out at the teen with light blue eyes.

"Nightwi-wait, you aren't here for him? Who _are_ you here for?" The teen stared back, confused.

"I believe in this universe he is known as Impulse."

* * *

Oliver stared at Clark, stunned. What little emotion and thought had been running through his brain had gone on vacation, and he was left feeling limp and slightly dizzy. Neither of them moved, lips still pressed together in a chaste kiss, but he couldn't tell if it was because they were both to shocked to move or if Clark liked it.

He wondered briefly if Clark was only doing this because he thought it would make him feel better, support his claim that no one was worthless, and surprisingly, he found himself thinking that if that were true and Clark wasn't attracted to him like that it would _suck_.

He was almost scared at how well he was taking this. Why wasn't he freaking out?

Then again, suddenly he didn't feel so caged in; instead of restrained, he felt comforted and closeness. Clark seemed to recover slowly, pressing forward just a little more before leaning back and looking disoriented. Which was a good word for what Oliver was feeling, now that he thought about it.

He took a breath in, and tried to calm down. "What...was that?" He made sure to phrase it in a way that seemed very non-threatening simply because Clark was beginning to lean back forward like he was going to go for another kiss. It prompted Oliver to move a few centimeters back and gulp loudly.

"I don't-" Clark interrupted himself by pushing forward for another kiss. Oliver wondered if this was actually happening, and squirmed a little as he felt the breath leave his lungs. This time, the brunette pressed forward harder, letting go of the archer's arm to put it opposite the first. Both his hands were now planted firmly on either side of Oliver, who found himself between a wall and a hard place-literally.

"Woah." Oliver gasped as Clark finally leaned back, allowing the blond to gather his bearings. Both of them looked equally stunned, but Clark still had a hint of lust in his eyes. "Was that...what's going on? Did I miss something?"

Clark took a deep breath. "-smell really good." He muttered under his breath, and Oliver felt awkwardness shift into the air.

"Excuse me?"

The meta appeared to gather his wits and said, "You smell _really good_." Before pressing his forehead into Oliver's collarbone and inhaling. _Deeply._

_Okay_, Oliver thought to himself. _This isn't creepy at all. _"Care to elaborate?" Maybe if he kept Clark talking, it would distract him long enough to realize what he was doing. Because so many things had happened in the past few days-both of them discovering their identities respectively, finding Bart, and finding out about a dimension-travel machine stuck in the middle of who knows where-that they didn't need Clark smothering him with kisses to add to the list.

Clark didn't do much besides hum a little and back away just enough to mumble, "Dunno what's happening...feel overwhelmed."

"You're not the only one." Oliver replied, about to say something else when in the background, a phone started ringing. It seemed to snap Clark out of whatever reverie he'd been in, and the meta reluctantly pulled back from his ministrations to flip open a cell phone.

"Yes?" He asked, voice deepening to become the persona of Superman. "Of course. Yes. I'm on my way." He snapped it shut and sighed deeply before looking over to Oliver longingly. As much as he was weirded out, the blond found that he could really get behind that sentiment when it came down to it. "It's the Commissioner." Of course _Superman _of all people would give a police officer his cell phone number. "He says there's some sort of commotion downtown. Needs more than a few helping hands."

"Yeah? Two pairs would probably win that front." He commented nonchalantly, and Clark shot him a weary stare through deep blue eyes.

"Oliver..." He began, fingers fiddling with the phone. Oliver twitched.

"No. Clark, no matter who you are, Superman or no, you _don't_ get to dictate my life. If I ever feel like I don't need to do what I do, then I'll stop. But that isn't now, and it's certainly not your choice to make for me." His words seemed to get through to Clark, who nodded slowly in recognition and leaned past him to pull a cardboard box out from under the bed. Inside were Oliver's arrows, bow, and costume.

"I know." The meta said, sure of himself. "I just...please, be safe."

"I...uh..." No one had ever asked Oliver that, not even Selina. "Yeah. You too."

* * *

"What the hell is that?" John asked in disbelief, watching the giant massive...blob.

"I don't know." Bruce replied, eyeing the sleeping speedster in the back seat before observing the obstacle that lay roughly thirty yards from them. They were trapped in the traffic jam caused by the giant mass of blue gel-substance. "But it's going to be up to us to get rid of it."

"You sure? Smallville is more Superman's territory."

Behind them, Bart rolled over, a slightly pained look on his face.

"Justice doesn't wait for anyone." Bruce replied. "Let's go." They both got out of the car. While Bruce slipped past the cluster of cars to a dark alley to change, John went back and shook Bart awake.

"C'mon kid. Gotta get you to a grocery store or something." He muttered. At the prospect of food, the kid sat straight up, nearly knocking their heads together.

"Food? Gottagetfood. Hyperactiveshock'snotfun." John slowly realized that Bart probably didn't realize he was speaking so fast. Thinking quickly, John pulled a wad of tens out of his pocket and shoved it into the kid's hand-the result of a streak of luck on poker night with his friends.

"34th and Pike." He said, and no sooner were the words out of his mouth Bart had disappeared into thin air.

Blinking and trying to register the new vacated seat, he leaned back before checking to make sure no one was looking. He was safe-most of the eyes were trained on the giant blob or an escape route. Grinning, he ran through the oath in his mind and felt the black and green suit replace his civvies. Flying up, he felt glad to see the black blur of Bruce running below him.

So apparently the blob was not a blob. Inside, a man was surrounded by a blue light. John formed a hammer and swung it a few times before letting it spiral into the gel. Instead of slicing through it like it's intended purpose, it made a strange bouncing noise before flinging right back towards John. He dropped down to the ground to dodge, landing with a stumble next to Bruce, who gripped him tightly by the shoulder to steady him.

"What is this stuff?" Green Lantern asked, walking around a few empty cars to push his hand against it. "Feels like jello."

Bruce remained silent for a moment, before nodding. "It could act as an incubator for the meta inside." He hypothesized.

"Like the inside of an egg is like the nutrients for the yolk?" John asked.

"If you want the simple answer: basically." Bruce said, before motioning for John to stand back. He then moved to stand directly in front of it and pulled out a needle.

"You gonna shoot explosives in it?" John asked. "You seriously keep explosives in a needle?"

"No. It's a virus." The needle was pushed into the blubber-like substance, and Bruce pressed the substance into the blue. He backed up and turned. "Shield."

John did as told-and none too soon. Seconds after the injection, the blue goo imploded very quietly before exploding with a loud pop, sending a spray of blue matter over the surrounding area. The man previously suspended in the middle dropped to the ground with a groan-the only two things now not covered in goo were Bruce and John. The few civilians who hadn't already run away shrieked and picked up the pace.

"That is _nasty_." John commented with a grimace, watching the slime slide off of the green force field and pile on the ground in a goopy mess.

"That's one word for it." Bruce remarked, before looking down in surprise as the ground began to rumble. "He's waking up."

"Guess it's go time, then." John smirked. They ran forward at the same time, diving in separate directions. Bruce used his momentum to jump off of the wall and into the air, shooting several throwing knives in the man's direction. They missed the caucasian by several inches, but then each let off a deep purple gas that moved slowly in the humid air. The man howled in pain as the gas reached his eyes, clutching them. While the assumed-villian was caught off guard, John shot out from behind. He formed a shield and hammer in his hand and slammed the weapon into the man's back.

A noise akin to metal scraping metal filled the air, and Bruce swore he could see the meta grinning. John went in for another hit when the villain whipped around and punched the teen in the stomach hard enough to push him through the air and into the nearby coffee stand. Bruce's eyes narrowed in protective aggression, and he snarled before sliding a bo staff out of his black utility belt.

The first hit landed right on target, and Bruce found that the meta's skin did, in fact, resemble metal. What had first appeared to be normal, white-toned flesh was actually a new steel produced mainly in LexCorp and Wayne Industries. Bruce's eyes widened before narrowing dangerously. He looked up to see John, half-conscious, holding his head and stumbling to find his bearings.

Looking closer, the meta had on a sort of collar-device. It was chunky and awkward-looking to wear, with two blinking lights: one green, one blue. It dug straight into the steel-like skin, vibrating when the creature moved.

Inhibitor collar. Bruce recognized it immediately. When Superman had first arrived, the military had seen him as a threat. To prepare for the day the so-called 'alien' turned his back on the US, a special device had been created by both Wayne Industries and the military to downsize the brute power and super strength, hindering Superman and forcing him to become as able as an average human male.

Two months after the prototype came into existence, a particularly well-known bioethics professor convinced them to stop all production, claiming that it was demoralizing and dehumanizing. Bruce, though he hadn't been keen to say it aloud, agreed with the man entirely. Only a month later, the only evidence left of the project-the prototype itself-had been stolen.

It sent a chill down Bruce's spine thinking about the pain the collar induced on it's victim. It was possible that the meta wasn't in control of it's-his-actions. He blinked, almost completely lost in thought, when he felt the air displace around him.

"WoahheytherelookOUT!" Bart slammed into him too quickly for Bruce to dodge, but was thankful for the tackle when, seconds later, the space where he had been became engulfed in flames. He stifled a groan, feeling his ribcage for any serious fractures, before sitting up. The force of the movement flopped the speedster on top of him onto the ground.

"Kid." Bruce growled, glaring at the speedster who was now decked in a white and red costume and wearing goggles. He began to say something else when he noticed the meta flinging a ball of fire at them like a baseball. Thinking quickly, he pressed himself against Bart, pinning him to the pavement, and pulled his cape over both of them. The fabric was flame _and_ burn resistant, and easily protected them from the attack. "Stay here." He muttered, before pushing off of the ground and launching himself towards the meta with another throwing knife in hand. Instead of sending it flying, though, he flipped it in his grip to hold it like a dagger. His arm flew up and prepared to come back down against the collar when the meta turned at the last second and pushed a metallic hand into his abdomen, like he was high-fiving Bruce's stomach. He curled his fingers into the taut skin and Bruce let out a low hiss before karate-chopping the offending limb and falling back.

"So...what were you trying to-" Bart had appeared next to him, hand at his back to keep him upright, but froze when he saw the collar. Bruce felt the muscles in the speedster's hand tense unimaginably, fear making itself apparent on the young boy's face. He was so distilled, so obviously frightened and disturbed by what he saw that he looked ready to both cry and run away at the same time. "Oh. Right. O-okay. Um." For once, the kid was at a loss of words. "I can do this. Go-" he gulped. "Go look at John. I know how to handle this."

Something in the teen's voice told Bruce to do what he was told. For the first time in years, he walked away from the fight and approached his fallen comrade. John had a sizable lump on his forehead, ingrained with a bloody gash, and had slumped against one of the vacated cars with his back against the tires. Dirt swam in the air from all of the activity, and it coated the black and green costume.

"You okay?" Bruce asked, squatting next to his friend stoically. John laughed sarcastically.

"Perfect." Came the dark reply. "How's it looking?"

"Not too bad." Bruce said, unsure of whether they were talking about the fight or the head wound. He answered for both. "Could be worse."

"Don't jinx it." John replied, before forcing himself to his feet. Bruce stood next to him, ready to help if needed. They both watched as Bart zipped around the meta quickly, confusing it and leaving it distracted. Then, at the opportune moment, the boy sped up to the meta and pulled something-a strange, white bead-sized object-out of an invisible pocket and tapped it against the meta's skin.

The reaction was instant. A flash of white light filled the air, along with an unheated explosion that tossed Bruce and John against the car. They coughed as the dust and particulates in the air filled their lungs, and Bruce looked to see what had happened to the meta.

Instead of the class-A villain that had previously existed, there was now a young twentysomething with peachy skin and blond hair. He wobbled before falling onto the ground, completely limp but still conscious. There was a ten-foot crater surrounding him that forewarned his true identity. On the ground near the man's feet was the remains of the collar, both lights now dulled, the metal ripped and jagged from being blown apart.

Scanning the area, Bruce saw Bart lying in a pile of blue goo and cement dust, looking half-conscious but victorious all the same. The sound of a rocket accompanied by the light padding sound of feet warned the heroes of an oncoming arrival. Superman lowered to the ground, looking disgusted and worried.

"Who are you?" The newer meta asked Bruce, voice authoritative and able-minded. It almost reminded Bruce of a boy scout, and the thought made him smirk.

"You can call me Green Lantern." John said with a friendly gall, walking up to them and putting an arm around Bruce's shoulders for support. "This is Batman." Together, they both effectively blocked the meta's view of the unmoving Bart.

"And you're...heroes?" Superman frowned. "I haven't heard of you."

"I have." Turning slowly, Bruce saw another figure, this time clad in green. There was a bow in his and and arrows at his back, and he nodded to both of them and purposely ignored Bart, playing automatically to their advantage. He spoke to them directly, walking out of the alley and into the sunlight. "This isn't your usual territory."

"We were in town." Bruce replied evenly.

"Who are _you_?" John asked, and it was obvious he was interested in the archer. Bruce had to admit that something seemed oddly familiar about the vigilante-and now that he took the time to notice, the blond was looking back at them in the same way.

"Green Arrow." The archer replied smoothly.

"Huh. How about that, Bats?" John elbowed him lightly in the side with dry humor. "We share a color."

"...I recognize him." Superman was kneeling next to the meta on the ground, cream-colored fingers brushing against the texture of the villain's dirty clothing. "His name's Delano Harwin. He's a car burglar." It would make sense for the met-Delano to be a prisoner; the tatters of his clothing still left were an ugly orange color.

Bruce let John lean against one of the slimed cars before moving to pick up the shards of collar near the burglar. "I will follow this case."

"Hey-!" Superman protested. "This is my city-I should help."

"You solve petty crimes." Bruce replied coldly. "This takes more than brawn." Before Superman could contradict him, he threw down a few smoke pellets. In the confusion, he swore he heard Green Arrow chuckle quietly, and swiftly threw Bart over his shoulder before escaping to the alley and into the darkness, John not far behind.

He had a feeling that this was going to be a very long night.

* * *

_Star City_

"C'mon." The hispanic teen muttered, pushing forward ever so slightly. "_C'mon_." He twisted the thin metal bobby pin pinched between his fingers to the left. "_Apenas un poco más_..." A quiet clicking noise met his ears, and a broken grin filled his face. Joy rushed through his system. He was out-now all he had to do was find and save Bart.

Thinking of the speedster gave him motivation. Bart had given up nearly everything to save him, risking his life multiple times to help him from becoming the monster he was capable of. Bart hadn't given up hope, so neither would he.

"I'm on my way, _hermano_."


	12. Chapter 12

**Boo! It's been a while :D two trips in a row really wore me out...but I had a lot of time to write, so enjoy the extra long chapter :) don't forget to review!**

**XXX,**

** Eve**

* * *

"Should we go after them?" Clark asked, watching Oliver for an answer carefully. The archer shook his head, walking to join him by Delano.

"Call the cops and get this guy cuffed. I have a feeling we're going to need to save our energy." Oliver turned to walk away, feet coated in goo, and Clark grabbed him by the arm to stop him.

"Where are you going?" He asked, making sure not to sound too demanding. He didn't want Oliver to find him annoying. He remembered kissing the guy, but it was like the entire incident had been an OBE. Something had been pulling him-was _still_ pulling him-to the blond, and he wanted to know why but was almost hesitant to find out. What if what he was feeling wasn't involuntary? What if it was a hoax, and he ended up with no feelings for the teen whatsoever? He wouldn't be able to pretend otherwise if he found out his feelings weren't real, and had a sinking realization of how cruel that would be to Oliver. He just wanted the blond close to him, for the time, for his own comfort.

Oliver scrunched up his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. "The cops don't like me. I steal things, remember?"

Oh. Right. Trying not to sound any more stupid, Clark nodded. "Yeah, of course." He tried to shrug it off, pretending not to notice the amused glance the other was sending him. "Sorry. I...would you wait for me back at the barn?" He didn't sound nonchalant, even on the best of days. This entire conversation was becoming a train wreck on his end.

"If that's okay with you." Oliver paused, waiting for his consent even though Clark was sure he'd more than given it. He nodded, let go of the archer's arm, and suddenly was alone. He glanced around at his surroundings-there were a few cracked bricks that told the story of someone smashing into them-or being smashed. Blue goop three inches thick covered everything within a block of where he stood, along with a dusting of cement rubble and a few smoking holes in cars. _Delano must have had fire power with him_. He sighed, wondering what the rubble that 'Batman' had picked up was. It had been in the shape of a distorted circle or oval, with small green and blue lightbulbs pressed into one part next to one another._  
_

Maybe it had been on Delano. A bracelet of some kind? Maybe an anklet, a remnant of his parol? _No, Delano wasn't on parol yet. _He'd checked up on the young thief, who looked older than he was. Delano came from a bad background, but things had been looking up at the end of his time. He'd greeted Superman-not Clark Kent-with softer eyes and a learnt expression. _Guess you never know. _His mind began to drift back to Oliver. His intoxicating scent-spicy, rich and exotic-filled his mind. Those thin, but incredibly soft, lips, and how they felt against Clark's own. The deceivingly silky factor of his skin, no matter how many scars adorned it.

It sufficed to say he wanted to get home as fast as possible. He scavenged the cars for a while before spotting an iPhone in the back of a jeep. It had been parked away from the mess in an alley, with all of the doors unlocked. Clark wiped his hands free of the blue goop on his legs before grabbing it and tapping it curiously. He'd never used an iPhone before; they'd always been amazingly expensive.

It was locked. Clark bit his lip in agitation before sliding the little bar to get to the keyboard. Noticing a little blue button for 'Emergency Calls', he pressed it and put the phone to his ear.

"Hello? This is Superman. I would like to report an incident near Pike and 32nd." He didn't wait for a reply, instead continuing on in order to get home as fast as possible. "There are no casualties or fires, but there is a large amount of blue goop covering the area. Non-acedic. I wouldn't recommend touching it with bare skin; tell the police to barricade the block until they get it dealt with. A lot of people are going to try to get through it to get to their cars. Thank you for your time, but I've gotta fly." With that, he tossed the phone gently into the back seat and got down on one knee, preparing himself for the takeoff. His fist pressed against the ground, which rumbled slightly. The air displaced for a split second before Clark flew off, watching the goo beneath him ripple.

* * *

Bart woke up in a bed. It was still strange to him, after spending the first eleven years of his life waking up every morning in camp. He felt his stomach growl loudly, pain shooting up his abdomen, and curled in a little. His hands fisted the sheets and he pressed his face into the clean cotton pillowcase, inhaling the fresh linen cloth happily before turning over and opening his eyes to the bright world around him.

He was in a bed underneath an expansive window. At each end of the bed was a bookshelf, to Bart's right, was a little kitchenette with an island that had stools around it. Occupying those stools were John and Bruce, attention diverted to the broken inhibitor collar strew in pieces across the island. Past that were more windows, and underneath those was a weathered leather couch. Across from the couch was a small, chunky television that quietly played the morning news.

Wait a second. Bart's eyebrows crinkled together in confusion and he sat straight up, all too used to the quiet howl of protest his stomach provided. He flinched as a hand gripped his shoulder tightly, and looked up to see the very-blue eyes of Dick Grayson staring back at him kindly, other hand holding out a glass of water.

"You look thirsty." He said. Bart stared back at him with wide, unknowing eyes.

"Dick?" He accepted the drink and downed it hastily, gulping loudly and wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve when he was done. He grimaced at the dried goop plastered over his body, leaving a sticky and uncomfortably stiff sensation in his muscles. Dick took the empty glass in his hand and used the other to ruffle the brunette's hair, sending cement dust clouds into the air.

"Yeah. I heard about what went down. You wanna talk about it?" He sat down next to Bart on the bed, careful not to crush the speedster's legs. Bart shrugged.

"What's there to talk about?" He asked, unused to Dick outside of his Nightwing costume. He recognized the leader of Young Justice, and knew that they were from the same dimension the moment he'd heard the guy's voice. But there was a personality shining through the usually emotionless façade, a friendliness that told the story of long nights with Wally and Roy as a child, the story of Robin and friendship and...heartbreak. Bart and Barry hadn't been the only ones to take the brunt of Kid Flash's death.

"You know what I'm talking about." Dick was sharp and straight to the point, but the understanding look was still on his face. He dropped his voice so only they could hear. "I know how you had to wear that collar longer than any kid you age should have. You're trying to convince me that seeing it again didn't bring back any bad memories?"

"It did, it's just..." Bart shrugged. "Idunno. How to explain it, y'know? Like, I already grieved and stuff." He crinkled his nose a little, clear green eyes taking in his whereabouts carefully to avoid looking Dick in the face. "It's not like seeing it again didn't suck, I just..."

"You're whelmed?"

"Pretty much."

"Glad to hear it." Dick said with a smile, ruffling his hair again and standing up. "Hey, John, where's the shower?"

John looked up from his place at the island. "To your left, kid. Do me a favor and take the sheets in with you." He went back to looking at the collar, completely and utterly confused. Bruce didn't even turn, picking apart the contraption with several miniature screwdrivers. Bart moved to stand up, and began to pull off the bedsheets. There was a Bart-sized imprint of grime and goo on it.

With a laugh, Dick shook his hand and shooed Bart away. "He was joking." Came the simple explanation, along with Bart's civvies. "Found them in the alley. They're only semi-dirty."

"Thanks." Bart said, taking them under his arm and padding quietly out to the shower. It was small, but not enough to be cramped, with a sink with a mirror in front of it and a glass-encased shower. Bart peeled off his costume slowly, wincing when parts of it stuck to his hair, and prodded his now-red skin. He turned around and checked for injuries, satisfied to only have a few major worries. There was a particularly nasty bruise blooming on his shoulder and back from hitting the ground at a bad angle, and a semi-deep cut on his wrist from flying collar shrapnel. He'd hoped to get farther away before the explosion, but the collar was an earlier version from the one he'd grown up with and therefore worked differently. He'd still been holding on to the meta-Delasomething-when it'd broken.

He cracked his toes with a relieved grin and hopped into the shower, thoughts drifting elsewhere.

He wondered how Jamie was. He knew it was stupid, worrying about someone who had like a protective, aggressive magical beetle strapped to their back to-well, watch their back. But still. Jamie was...Jamie. Irreplaceable. If Bart died, Barry could come back and be flash. But no one could ever take the place of Jamie, not in Bart's mind. If Bart lost him, it would be like losing the world. Literally. Like, the world shouldn't exist if the J-man wasn't there to be there in it.

He blankly realized that he hadn't turned on the shower yet, staring down at the knob in confusion. Back in Mt. Justice, the showers turned on if you waved your hand. Hoping this was the same and that the knobs were just for decoration, he waved his hand in front of the shower head.

Nothing happened. He ran a goop-covered hand through his hand and frowned impatiently, tapping his feet against the ground to get rid of excess energy. He wanted to take a shower and eat...a _lot_. He was hungry, pain-inducingly hungry. But...he wanted to take a shower more. Well, not more, but. Still. Eating in his condition would take all the amazingness out of being chock full of food.

He smacked one of the knobs and the shower sprang to life, scaring the crap out of him. He backed up in surprise and nearly vibrated through the glass encasement, barely catching himself from doing so. The water was cold. _Maybe that's the only temperature it goes at_. He briefly remembered hot water in Mt. Jusice, but didn't want to ask for help with Nightwing right outside. That would just be...awkward. And a little embarrassing.

So he showered in cold water. Just for good measure, he brought his Impulse costume in with him and scrubbed it clean with a little shampoo while he rinsed off the dust and goop, sighing in relief as moving became less uncomfortable. He would have to make a new costume, he decided, with less white when he got back home. Maybe Zatanna would help him or something-she was good at that kind of stuff. Or Artemis. Probably both.

Turning the knob the opposite direction he had before, he turned off the shower and reached under the sink for a towel. Drying himself off, he winked at his reflection and put on a grin, before sighing wearily and shaking it off. He just couldn't fake it today, it seemed. He was usually pretty good at staying positive, but the collar had left a sour taste in his mouth. He stepped into his civvies and stretched before walking out of the bathroom.

"Jeez, kid, what'd you do in there? Make a pool?" John asked, but there was no bite to his voice. Bart had to get used to that-that sarcastic humor that wasn't but was insulting all at the same time. He guessed that he'd spent more time in the shower than he'd thought.

"Yeah." He grinned, zipping forward and into the kitchen before anyone could blink. Before Bruce had a chance to look up, Bart was sitting next to him, digging into a bow of cold pasta. "M'hugne." He said through his food. The dark knight grimaced at the sight.

"Bart. Manners." Dick said, sitting down on his other side and sighing. "Did you find what you're looking for?" He gestured to the collar. Bruce didn't say anything, but Dick didn't look too put off, especially when John answered for him.

"Nope."

Upon hearing that, Bart paused from inhaling his third bowl (not that anybody else knew that; he'd gotten more faster than they could realize) of noodles and feta cheese to quickly search through all of the pieces. He stopped and held one up. "Thereyougo." He said, putting the piece in Bruce's hand. "LexCorp, right? Logo's right here."

Bruce stared at it blankly before narrowing his eyes and putting it into his pocket. He bagged the rest of the pieces in a ziplock and put it carefully into a slot in the leather messenger bag he had strewn on his lap. "Thanks." He said shortly. Bart shrugged.

"That's not what we have to worry about." He said. "Like, look. Okay. So, this dimensions all weird forward-backward compared to ours." He was talking to Dick now, who snorted.

"Define 'forward-backward'." He said.

"Well, it's like." Bart struggled for a minute, consuming another bowl of pasta before moving on to the leftover chinese food. John made a noise of discontent in the back of his mouth. "They're all younger, right? But all the techy stuff is from farther forward than us. Forward-backwards. So...maybe they have the whole 'Annihilator' thing _here_, too. Since...that's like a spoiler. Right. Weird." His nose crinkled again. "Yeah. So, in our time, Lex makes this robot thing that can take on Superman. To kill him, right? That's where the whole inhibitor thing came from. And this is definitely _not_ the first person he's tried this on in _this_ dimension, so...yeah. Maybe that's happening here, too."

Dick's face was calculative and serious as he sorted through all of the information he'd just received. Bruce looked the same way. It was John who finally disturbed the silence.

"...spoilers? What?"

Bart looked to Dick, who shrugged as if to say 'tell them if you want'. After all, they were in another dimension. It's not like anybody back home would find out.

"So I'm, like, from the future. In my dimension thing. If you're believing me about that now." He waited.

"We believe you." The two weary superheroes across from him sighed in unison.

"Okay, cool. So I'm from the future, where this guy Blue Beetle was converted from being a hero to being a villain kind of, and everybody had to wear these collar things, kind of like the ones here, so that no one could fight back. And a bunch of superheroes were killed and stuff, and all the kid ones who weren't dead already were given _inhibitor_ collars so that they couldn't use their powers. But then I escaped with these three people, and one of them helped me build a ti-"

"What happened to the other two?" Bruce cut in sharply, and Bart winced, eyes meeting his hands. They fisted his jeans as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"They died." He said guiltily, before forcing a crooked smile on his face. "Anyways, so I went back in time and changed it, but it was sort of a one-way trip. And I'm trying not to spoil the _good stuff_ so at least that will happen, but sometimes I get a little sidetracked and end up saying it anyways. like, 'spoiler alert'-"

"We get it." John interrupted with a smirk. "So...are you two, like...?" He gestured to the two strangers. Dick had taken a protective stance with one arm leaning near Bart's leg and the other gazing over at John and Bruce suspiciously.

"No. Nono. Hahathat'dbeawkward." Bart almost spoke to fast for _himself_ to understand it. "He's like, basically my older brother." Really though, since he and Wally had been basically joined at the hip, and Wally had been the brother he'd never had.

Dick raised his eyebrow in a 'really? you went with _brother?_' but otherwise made no negations.

"Okaaaay." John said, shrugging. "Just curious." Bruce snorted near-silently from his side of the island. "So then you've seen the collar before?" Bart nodded in confirmation.

"That's why you were able to handle Delano." Bruce deducted. "Because you know how it works."

"Not how it works." Bart shook his head. "The only person who knew that is dead. I just know how to destroy it." He grimaced. "_Much_ easier."

"What do you get out of telling us this?" Bruce asked carefully, hands clenching slightly. "Why are you telling us about the future?"

Bart looked at him honestly. "Because. Maybe if you stop Lex here...what happened in my past won't happen here." He looked down with a painful frown. "No one deserves to be collared or caged."

No one said anything for a while after that. Dick wordlessly led Bart back to the bed and began explaining how he'd woken up with slight amnesia, and what John and Bruce said about what happened to Delano. John slouched over on the couch and took a nap, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. Bruce speculated different theories about parallel universes and the identity of Catwoman, and what had happened in Bart's past that he was so fearful would happen in theirs.

And not any of them had the heart to tell Bart that, not even when skirting over the speedster's past, no one had mentioned cages.

* * *

Oliver felt sick to his stomach as he waited for Clark to get back, returning quickly to the barn as promised. He'd expected to be back after the superhuman just because Clark had seemed so impatient to talk to him, get their 'feelings' sorted out.

Honestly, it scared him more than a little. He'd spent the majority of his time escaping his feelings, and he was damn good at it. Confrontation was always expertly avoided using acute timing and precise calculations, and a good deal of bullshit.

Another swell of nausea overcame him and he hunched over on his seat at the edge of Clark's bed. His GA uniform was sticky with sweat and cement dust, but he was better off than that one kid Batman had toted away. At least he wasn't covered head to toe in blue goop.

He gulped, trying to swallow down the sickness, considering how uncomfortable it would be if he had to explain to Clark that he'd gotten sick near his bed.

Light footsteps warned him of Clark's return. He looked up just in time to see said meta fly up to his bed.

"Hey." Oliver tried, unsure of how to start.

Clark stared at him. "I like you." His eyes were sharp and straightforward, steely and bright sky blue. His earnest face looked younger than he was. He stepped forward and looked down at Oliver. "A lot. More than I think you realize."

Oliver felt like he was missing a vital point to this conversation. "Wait...like-like? Or as a fri-" Clark glared at him. "Okay, then. You like me."

"But you obviously don't want to face whatever you're feeling right now." Ouch. Oliver had to admit, that wounded a little more than his pride.

"Okay."

"So you don't have to tell me how you feel until you want to." Clark kneeled so that he only looked down on Oliver by a couple inches. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable. But I like you and you need to let me like you. And maybe you can like me too. But I won't push it farther unless you tell me to."

Oliver knew what was happening. He'd learned in from a psychology book; he was making it seem like he was in control of the relationship but then left the actual progress and decisions to Oliver.

"You're really blunt, you know that?" He said after a moment of thought. It was true, though; not a lot of people could just say that out of the blue. Especially after taking into consideration how long they'd known each other.

Clark seemed surprised, but not shocked. "Not really." He admitted reluctantly. "Just...with you."

Oh. Well.

"Oh." Oh was right. Oliver cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um...I kind of have to get back to my apartment, so..." Yeah. He really sucked at this. It was so much easier to put on a persona when no one knew who he was. And he still felt way too overwhelmed with everything that had happened over the course of two days. "I'm leaving now."

Clark nodded, looking disappointed. "Okay." He said quietly. Oliver stood up, preparing to leave when a hand circled around his wrist and pulled him against a muscled chest. Lips met his, firm but gentle, and ohgod they needed to do this more often. Oliver felt the blood rush from his head, knees quivering before he forced himself to squirm out of the superhuman grip.

"S-See you at school." He wasn't stuttering. He was just pausing in between words. Superheroes don't stutter.

He slid down the ladder to the ground and promptly ran away, adrenaline coursing through his system.

* * *

"You're late." Oliver froze mid-climb. He'd forgotten completely about the agent at his house, figuring that the guy was busy. But this was not that random agent, whose voice was gravelly and annoying. This voice was warm, low, and reprimanding. It reminded Oliver of an annoyed parent.

"Who're you?" He asked in return, slipping all the way through the window cautiously, glad to have changed into his civvies before entering. His sneakers squeaked loudly against the kitchen counter, and he deftly avoided knocking down a cold cup of coffee leaping to the ground. "What happened to the other guy?"

"You can call me Phil. The 'other guy' was...indisposed." Phil was sitting calmly at the kitchen table, one knee folded over the other and hands woven together on the tabletop. He had on a suit with a bird symbol imprinted on the arm. "I'll be taking care of you for the next six months."

Oliver snorted. "Okay, yeah, whatever." He was used to this: the pretending to be nice and then completely ignoring each other later. "I'll be going up to my room now." He moved to leave, and jumped when Phil suddenly appeared in front of him, frowning softly.

"I'm not joking." He deadpanned, eyes holding a very serious stature. He stared Oliver straight in the eyes, confident and proud, but also extremely aware of the situation he'd been placed in. "I expect you to follow the rules we give you."

"Rules?" Oliver mimicked the frown. "Excuse me? I am _not_ a child. I may not be an adult, but I am competent. I can take care of myself."

"You look like you're about to be sick." Phil noted the contradiction. "That is the opposite of caring for yourself."

"So I'm not allowed to get sick every once in a while?" Oliver crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, making himself look larger than he felt. "You're not here to parent me. Don't act like it."

"Don't act like a child, and I won't have to." Phil murmured, watching as stoically as Oliver turned angrily and exited the room.

* * *

"You were right. The comics back home are this world's reality." Phil crossed his arms. "Should I call in Romanov or Barton yet?" His radio received mostly static, until the other side picked up slightly.

_"No. C'mon, Agent, tell me who you're looking over. Is it Batman? Superman? Oh, god, is it Wonder Woman? Please tell me it's Wonder Woman."_

"The Justice League doesn't exist yet." Phil said. "It appears they're younger. And I am not looking over a member of the founders. What's your location?"

_"Star City. Still looking for Cap. Haven't found anything yet...so you know where Hawk and Widow are? Anything else you forgot to tell me?"_

Phil grimaced and sighed, sifting through Oliver's cupboards for a coffee maker. "You know I don't trust these radios. Keep in touch."

_"Wait a seco-shit. Oooohhh snap. Agent...I'm gonna need so-" _A crash on the other side of the receiver made Phil wince. _"**Hey. WATCH IT!"** _Phil prayed that the person on the other line wouldn't be cut out, but picked up the sound of a bellowing roar.

"Is that-"

_"Send backup._ **Now.**" The line went dead.

* * *

Jamie looked down on Gotham City from the top of a giant skyscraper. The sky was turning dark once more, and clouds rolled in unnaturally fast. Thunder rumbled, and soon there was rain pounding down. Lightning flashed across the sky in violent cracks.

He held on tightly to the flagpole, his foot planted sturdily at the base. He grimaced, realizing just how much ground he would have to cover before he found his friend. However, nothing would get done if he just sat there. With a determined stare-down with the blinking car lights below, he expanded his wings and dropped, ignoring the strange, roar-like quality in the wind.


End file.
